Expect the Unexpected
by LadyRiona
Summary: AU EdWin, some RoyRiza in ch25. Winry Rockbell is a famous opera singer in Central City, and has been receiving threat notes. Edward Elric is a police officer assigned to figure out her case. T for violence, romance, and a lot of angst.
1. Introduction

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of its components.**

**Author's Note: So, things you should know... Well, first things first so you know what you're getting into...this story is NOT just about trying to get Ed and Winry getting in the sack together. I am hoping to write this story as if I were to publish it, with a real plot line and a real point that I do reach (eventually). So do enjoy if you decide to give this a chance. If you haven't hit the back button yet, please know: this story is based on the idea I had about a movie, only to be told, yeah, I'm totally wrong since I never did see the movie. And as of December 26, 2009, I'll be reuploading some chapters that I've re-edited..._again_. Something else that's imperative to your knowledge bank: if you don't like my story, don't waste my time and yours by flaming. Save everyone a lot of trouble by hitting the back button and moving on, forgetting that you ever read this. If you do like it, well thank you and good for you, you get cookie points. Something else...this story is AU, AKA Alternate Universe, so it is in no way meant to be the same as the original plot. There are many likenesses but this is not set in the story we all know so well or so I hope. So thanks for clicking my link and reading at least this far. If you read no further then thanks for saving time.**

**I'm going to try to complete this monster so if you're coming across this for the first time, have no fear! =D  
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Chapter 1**

"Hey, get up," an angry voice ordered with the accompanying noise of a thick folder slapping the desk. The person the order had been meant for snapped his head up, blond hair flying backwards behind his head. He looked at his boss, giving him an offending scowl. "You have a new assignment."

With that, the dark headed man left to go to his office twenty paces away. Why the man even bothered to get up was beyond the young, blond haired man. He could have just shouted for him, having the same effect.

Just before his boss disappeared into the office, he held his left hand up, imitated a gun and pretended to shoot at the testy man of higher rank. Scattered laughter hung in the air as the young man lifted his feet off his desk and dropped them to the floor. With a frustrated sigh, he stood up and pushed his long bangs behind his ears before shoving his hands in his pockets. The day was only halfway through, and he had a feeling it was about to become much longer.

As he strutted down the long aisle of desks to the office door that read "Captain Roy Mustang," on the glass, the young man highly contemplated going back to his own desk and sleeping for a little while longer. But the better part of valor told him that he and his younger brother needed whatever money this assignment could bring in. So he kept on reluctantly and opened the door without bothering to knock.

Mustang was sitting at his desk, filling out some form or other. "Sit down," he said absently.

So he did and then felt the wave of sleepiness come back. The younger man stifled a yawn as he waited not-so-patiently for his assignment briefing. It was about five more minutes and five yawns later that he was finally spoken to again. That could have been five more minutes catching up on lost sleep at his desk.

The captain leaned back in his chair and stared out the window. "Winry Rockbell," he said wistfully. "Have you ever heard her music before?"

The young man lifted an eyebrow. "My brother listens to her music while he works; says her voice is soothing," he answered hesitantly. In truth, he actually owned one of her earlier CDs, but would never let anyone know, not even his brother Alphonse. "Why?"

"If you've been reading the paper, you'll know that there have been threat notes sent to her lately from some anonymous person," Mustang said. "She's come to our police station and requested a bodyguard of the best sorts."

"I'm just part of the Criminal Intelligence Division, sir," he argued.

"And with that training, you can take care of Ms. Rockbell and find the person who is after her life," the captain said with such a calm voice that it unnerved the younger man. "Here is the case file with copies of the letters sent to her." He pushed the folder towards the end of the desk nonchalantly. "Go research it," he ordered dismissively, returning to his other paperwork.

The light haired man gritted his teeth as he snatched up the folder. In his head, he was growling very many not-so-nice phrases about his captain. He didn't dare to ever say them aloud, lest he lose the job he had been working at since he'd been able to work.

"Oh, and Elric?"

Edward Elric bit his cheek and took a deep breath. Very slowly, he turned around. "Yes?" he grumbled.

"Don't fall out of your chair when you fall asleep again."

The blond man let his breath out in a hiss. The captain wouldn't let him live that down, would he? The day that he could get away from Mustang without hearing two words about that incident would be the day he fell to the floor and kissed that man's steel toe boots. Unfortunately, he didn't see that day coming any time soon.

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Later that evening, Ed Elric trudged in through the front door with heavy, tired steps. It was a little after six, and there was nothing more he wanted to do than to go back to sleep. But from the sound that greeted his ears, he likely wouldn't be able to sleep for at least another two hours. So he dropped his briefcase on the counter and walked toward the freezer. He pulled out a bottle of clear liquor from near the icebox and contemplated using a glass. Since his brother was too young and had no taste for alcohol, he drank straight from the bottle and drained a small amount of its contents.

Feeling decidedly better, he capped the bottle once more and placed it carefully on the counter once more. Maybe there was hope of getting his brother to read a book for a little while or to at least make some dinner. So Ed approached the basement door and the sounds of a metal grinder became louder. He opened the door and started down the stairs to the near deafening workshop.

His brother, Alphonse, was an armorer. His clients were usually people who attended renaissance faires for the joust, or they were just purists who wanted a spectacular costume. Then there was the occasional freak who wanted a sword made for his collection. On especially rare occasions, a rich somebody requested Al's service for a decorative suit of armor. Even rarer were people who ordered Al's favorite armor to make - the unusual and unique. But since there were no faires coming up in the next few months, Al was reduced to mere repairing of armor. Why his brother chose to use his hand tools was beyond Ed, though. They were both fully fledged alchemists - illegally, however - and could do most anything they wanted with their unusual skill. But still, Al seemed to like to do things his way – the manual, old-fashioned way.

As Ed stepped down to the concrete basement, he was surrounded by the usual sounds of Al's metal shop and Winry Rockbell's CD blaring over the speakers. They were lousy neighbors; Ed readily admitted that. He was about to step over to the stereo to at least turn down the music to get his brother's attention when he saw a breastplate with a particularly nasty rip in the side. He figured he'd give his brother a hand and fix it. So he clapped his hands and then covered the tear. A blue light emanated from the metal and soon there was no more tear - the armor was good as new!

Then Al turned around as he heard the alchemic reaction. "Brother!" he cried. "I was going to fix that myself!" He scowled at the armor.

Ed shrugged. "I decided to give my little brother a hand," he said nonchalantly. Since they had to yell over the music, he reached out and turned Winry's voice down.

"I'm supposed to do these jobs myself, Brother, or else I don't feel right about giving it back to the person." Al looked away and back at his present job.

"Well, I saved you some time and effort. But I can always undo it." Ed made to clap his hands again.

Al turned around hastily. "No! I wouldn't want you to undo your alchemy, Brother, since you don't get to use it as often anymore," he said. Ed snickered to himself and walked over to his brother. Al, however, didn't want to discuss his work at the moment. "How was your job today?" he asked.

Ed shrugged and went over to the refrigerator in the corner. He pulled out a can of soda and popped the top. "You want one?" he asked Al. His brother shook his head. "It was work," Ed went on. "I fell asleep at my desk again...did my usual paperwork on that one case." He took a long drink from the can. "Oh, and I got a new assignment," he added as if it were nothing.

Alphonse was immediately excited. They had been living well enough off of Edward's usual paycheck, but things were beginning to get a little tight, what with Al's lack of work. It was a good thing when Ed was assigned a new job. "What is it, Brother?" he asked, his enthusiasm apparent on every word.

With a sly smile, he headed towards the stairs. "You'll never believe me. You'll just think it's some cruel joke Havoc made up for me to play on you," he threw over his shoulder.

He heard Al going through the routine of throwing off his work apron, turning off the machines, taking off the goggles, and running up the stairs after his older brother. "No, I won't; what is it?"

Ed threw himself on the couch and reached for his briefcase. "Start on some dinner, would you Al? I'm starving," he said dismissively.

Al jumped on the couch next to his brother, disrupting his orderly papers. "Brother! Tell me!" He gave Ed an impatient look. "Or no dinner."

The elder brother's jaw dropped. "That's a cheap shot, Alphonse. You know I can't cook to save my life," he murmured.

"Then tell me! You can't just say you got a new assignment and leave it at that. It has to be somewhere in the Handbook of Being an Older Brother." Al pointed at the rather thick book on the bookshelves lining the wall.

Ed grimaced at the thought. "You're like a kid on Christmas, Al," he mumbled. Then he started rifling through his papers until he came across the folder Mustang had given him earlier that day. "I, Edward Elric of the Criminal Intelligence Division of Central City Police, have been ordered to be the bodyguard of one Winry Elizabeth Rockbell, the newest diva to grace the ears of most inhabitants of Central City." He took a deep breath after expending all those words in one sentence.

Al's jaw dropped. "There is a line—I can find it, hold on—in the Handbook on lying to me about something like that!" he exclaimed, jumping for the book. Since he was a lot taller than Ed, he had the advantage of putting it up high enough so Ed couldn't burn it.

"Alphonse, it's in the folder here," Edward laughed incredulously. "Come take a look. And get dinner started before I eat your book while it's down here."

Immediately, the young man dropped the book on the floor and dove for the couch. Ed slid onto the floor just before Al landed in the exact spot he'd been sitting. That had been close...too close. When Ed sat up, his younger brother was leafing through the folder. When he finished, Al looked up from the papers in disbelief, his jaw slack and eyes wide. It took him a moment to recover enough to speak. "Is-Is she going to come here? Will she live with us? Can I meet her? Oh, but how long are you on this assignment?" Questions spewed forth in the exact order Al's thought process worked when he didn't think before speaking.

It took a bit for Ed not to laugh at his excited brother. "She might come here only once if it's absolutely necessary," he answered. "I mean, look at his place Al; it's a mess. And I'm not ever here half the time."

"Well, can I meet her?" Al's eyes glistened hopefully.

Edward shrugged a little. "Maybe, if I ever get time to put one word in for her busy schedule," he mumbled. Then his stomach alerted him to its unfed stated. "Al," he said pitifully.

"Just a minute, Brother. Waiting to eat will do you good. I really want to meet her."

The eldest blinked. "Yes, I know. I really want to eat something," he returned.

"Brother!" Alphonse pleaded.

"I'll see what I can do," Ed finally said. "But essentially it's up to the diva."

Al didn't hear the second phrase. He was already in the kitchen preparing something edible.

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Later that night, a storm was ravaging Central. The wind was howling and beating the rain mercilessly against the windows. Lightening split the sky and thunder crashed very shortly after. It had been going on since dinnertime, and it was nearly midnight now. There was no sign of it letting up anytime soon.

It was nights like this that reminded Ed of his past. He could feel the pain in his right shoulder and left thigh more intensely than usual. The doctor's he'd seen have given him a little bit of pain medication for a while, but it hadn't worked as well as Ed had hoped. He left the doctor to go to a psychiatrist, recommended to him by Hawkeye. She'd said that officers who were having troubles overcoming something about a case, usually killing someone for the first time or seeing someone die right in front of them, went there for help.

As per Hawkeye's suggestion, Ed had gone to the psychiatrist for a few sessions, unwillingly of course. He didn't like to talk about the incident, not even with Al. But a few facts had been dragged out of him, only to be told what he was experiencing was called 'phantom pains.' It had to do with the lobe in his brain controlling his memory.

In great detail, he'd been told that people often remember things from certain smells or sounds. Even certain words could trigger a particular memory. Only if the smells, sounds, or words were spoken at the time the memory had been recorded, of course.

Well, on the night of the incident, the smell of rain had been in the air, and the sound of thunder had been all around him. The psychiatrist's diagnosis had cleared up a lot, but Ed wasn't happy.

Mainly because he wasn't without pain.

But it wasn't likely, he'd been told, that it would go away.

Of course, he'd asked if it was only a "malfunction," he'd called it, with his memory. The psychiatrist had said that sometimes patients of the same trauma—who were quite rare—held a grudge against something to do with the incident.

Ed had become silent for the remaining minutes of his session and never returned.

He had assumed there was nothing he could do to relieve the pain for a while. Then about three weeks after putting up with the pain of "having no limbs," he'd decided to do something about it. He knew that when experiencing at least two different kinds of pain, the brain focused on the worst. So he had tried many different ways to do just that: to equal or create even greater pain than his arm and leg. Until finally, he'd come across something rather ridiculous that helped.

He'd been at work one night, putting in extra hours, during a storm. Of course, he'd been hurting but hadn't alerted anyone to it. Havoc, the chronic smoker he was, had come over and offered Ed a cigarette. Ed usually couldn't stand the smell or taste of nicotine, but for some reason, he'd taken the hit and gone to the locker room. He had lain on his back with his head hanging off the edge of a bench and smoked. Halfway through the cigarette, his pain had left him. Now, if the pain became too much that it kept him awake, he would go out on the covered porch, lay on the bench, head hanging off the edge, and smoke until he felt better. Strange, he knew, but it helped him escape the pain.

Edward would be on the porch doing said procedure, but he was so tired. He would have been asleep if he didn't have the pain now. So if he went to smoke, he would probably fall asleep after half a stick and end up burning to death.

He hoped the rain would stop soon so he could sleep; it had been raining quite a bit lately. He still had to go to work in the morning. Because of the wet weather bringing on the phantom pains, he was falling asleep more and more often at his desk. Ed knew it was bad for his job performance, yet none of the higher-ups had ever reprimanded him for it. He knew why, too, and it aggravated him. They never took off his job performance because they pitied him. Ed tried not to let that bother him too much, but he couldn't help it some days.

After some deliberation, Ed decided that there was another painless way to get to sleep. So he climbed out of bed, not bothering to pull his robe over his boxers, and limped out to the hallway. He peeked into Al's room briefly to see his younger brother bundled in blankets from the cool mid-autumn air. Ed smiled a little as he turned the thermostat down to fifty-seven. Immediately, the heater kicked off and the cool air started to come out of the ceiling.

As Ed climbed back into bed and pulled the thick fleece blankets up to his ears, he smiled. He would be asleep in no time.

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The next morning, Ed woke up shivering. At first, he couldn't figure out why. Then a faint throb in his shoulder reminded him. So he threw his blankets off, immediately wishing he hadn't as the freezing air chilled him to the core. Shivering, he reached for his robe. Upon his fingers touching the fuzzy cotton, he encountered a hole. He frowned at it briefly before pulling it on. He would fix it later.

He liked his robe. It was red and had an alchemic symbol on the back. His mother had given it to him when he'd turned sixteen. Not having grown much since the age of ten, he still wore it. Now it was finally showing signs of its age, after five and a half years of early mornings and late nights.

Hastily, Ed made his way to the hallway to fix the thermostat before Al woke up. The poor boy, though he had been there during the horrible incident and understand Edward's pain, wouldn't appreciate the reason why Ed had turned the heater off.

But Ed hadn't woken up soon enough, he saw as he entered the living room. Al was sitting in the middle of the floor, looking none too happy about the temperature. He had about four blankets on and was watching the TV quietly. Ed had a feeling he would have a lot of explaining to do for this one.

"Morning, Al," he said in what he hoped was a cajoling tone. No response. "You're up early." More silence. "It's, ah, it's a bit chilly this morning. You think we'll get some early snow this year?"

Al looked up at Ed, expressionless. It was rather disturbing. "The heat was off all last night," he said in a monotone voice. "I woke up half an hour ago, freezing to the bone. Naturally, I assumed the heater was turned _down_ for the morning since you would be up soon for a shower. But something told me to look at the thermostat."

Edward immediately busied himself making cereal, something he had mastered about cooking.

"Fifty-seven."

That was all it took to make Ed flinch, causing his hand to twitch and spill soymilk on the counter.

"That's what the air was set at when I woke up, Brother," Al grumbled.

Ed recovered quickly. "For a twenty-year-old, you complain a lot," he said and sat down at the bar.

"Why did you turn it down so low in the first place?"

No questions, no prying, no checking to make sure it _really_ was Ed. Just flat-out accusation. The love he received from his only surviving blood relative.

"I was having pains again," the older man explained. "And my usual method couldn't be done for unspoken reasons so I figured I'd freeze myself to sleep. It worked." Yeah, he kept secrets from Al. He knew it wasn't very nice and the Handbook would have something to say about it. But there were just some things he couldn't tell Al. His pain relief method was one of them.

That he had once killed a man was another, though he suspected that Al knew in a strange, younger brother way.

"Well, you froze me out of bed." Al paused. "In payback, you _have_ to take me to meet Winry Rockbell," he decided.

Ed scoffed at his colorful cereal. Men of his age either had a maid or a wife to cook them hearty breakfasts, stopped at a coffee shop for a bagel and coffee, or couldn't afford more than what they found in trash cans. Ed was none of those, and happily so. He had Al, who was a decent enough cook. They hadn't starved yet; that said something. But then again, they were both on a strict diet of soy products and non-greasy foods. Meat had to be cooked a certain way, eggs were either 100 pasteurized, cooked very well, or not eaten at all. Then there were countless other things Al had a fetish about for their diets.

This all happened two years ago when Al had won a free subscription to this health journal. There were "true" stories of how people's lifestyles had been changed for the better by the recommended diet for their body type and amount of exercise. There were endless amount of recipes that had eventually inspired Al to create his own and submit them for compensation. Then there were those small print lines advertising something completely against the magazine's food "ethics."

Nevertheless, Ed was just happy to be eating real food. He didn't mind the "no dairy" part since he hated milk. There were a couple things he didn't agree with, but as long as Al was happy and Ed had food on the table…err…bar.

"—goes best with boots or regular shoes?"

Ed realized too late Al had been talking to him about something. He didn't want to let Al know he hadn't been paying attention, so he took on a thoughtful look. Al had mentioned shoes, so it had to be an outfit, likely to meet Ms. Rockbell. But what had Al mentally selected?

"Uh…boots. Definitely boots. The ones Hawkeye bought you for your birthday this year." _Oh, God_, Ed prayed, _please let this be right!_ He cast a mental look heavenward.

"The gray ones?" Al asked slowly.

Ed nodded uneasily. "Have you outgrown them already or somethin'?" It was very hard to be casual at this point.

"No," Al replied as easily as Ed wished he could have. "I was just wondering why I didn't think of that first." Then he trotted off to find them.

Ed nearly collapsed on the bar. He looked up and mouthed the words "thank you" over and over. Then Al poked his head back in. The elder froze.

"Can I meet her today?" Then he paused, taking in Ed's leaning on the bar and looking up at the lights.

"What were you doing?"

"Nothing," Ed said as casually as he could, slowly straightening. "And I'll see what I can do. But you will meet her eventually. I promise." He smiled encouragingly at his brother. Al bounded off again to have whatever outfit set aside for what would be known as "_the day_" from now on.

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Before he left the house every morning, Ed made sure he had a very full thermos of hot, black coffee. He'd been drinking coffee since he was about ten. Though he didn't believe it for five seconds, he'd heard from numerous people that coffee stunted growth. It was nonsense, all of it. Al drank coffee on occasion and he was a whole head taller than Edward. Then he knew a few people who had been drinking coffee longer than he. They were all tall. But sometimes, Ed wondered if he were just…short…or if the coffee had to do with it since was only a few inches taller than he had been at ten.

He shook his head as he stepped out of his car at the police station. Crazy, all the people who had even told him that. Absolutely crazy.

The second he walked into the station, he felt the temperature change from a quite cool breeze outside to air hot enough to taste it in the station. The first surface he reached, he set his thermos, now about missing one fourth of its contents, on the desk and began to take his coat off. He slung that over his shoulder and took up his drink again to continue to his desk. It was still messy, blessedly. The janitor had left him a note on many occasions that she would get a big trash bag and throw all the plastic, _collectable_ coffee cups, stray pieces of paper, the crumpled paper that had missed the trashcan, and many other items into the dumpster. Ever since then, he'd been paranoid about his work space. When the area was clean, his thoughts tended to roam more often. When in a messy space, his mind didn't have much room to contemplate anything other than what was in front of him. Usually a case file or a summons.

Ed set his thermos down on the space left clear for just that reason and dropped his coat near the trash can. Just as he sat down, Captain Mustang appeared outside of his cubicle.

"What are you doing here?" he asked incredulously.

Edward looked at the captain as if he'd lost his mind. "Working, maybe?" he suggested.

"If you were working, you wouldn't be here. You would be at Ms. Rockbell's house. She's called _three_ times, demanding to know where her _bodyguard_ is." Mustang scowled at Ed as if he were some vile substance that needed to be removed immediately. He supposed there was some truth to that.

The two men stared at each other for a few minutes, waiting for the other to make the first move. Finally, Ed leaned to the side to retrieve his coat. He stood again, returning the captain's less-than-pleased look.

"Her address?" Ed prompted.

Mustang lifted an eyebrow. "It should have been in the file. Where is that, Elric?" He was waiting for Ed to give a wrong answer like the folder was at home under a bottle of booze, unopened.

Ed smirked inwardly and opened his briefcase. He slowly pulled out the folder and opened it. "Ta-dah," he said sarcastically. Then he searched the paper for her address and pointed at it. "I'll just be on my way, then." It was probably best to leave now before Mustang's disappointment made it to the point of anger to take out on a certain prosthetic-limbed CID member.

So he took his thermos in hand and left the station wordlessly, feeling quite smug on the inside. Before he slid into his car, Ed made sure he had his wallet and cell phone. No one ever called him unless it was an emergency. At least, no one but Detective Maes Hughes.

That man never needed a reason more valid than that he was bored to call someone. Of course, he made rounds of who he would call, because if he called Ed whenever he was bored, Ed wouldn't own a cell phone anymore. Or at least he would have blocked Hughes' number by now. And Ed had a feeling it was his turn soon, since he wouldn't be at the station much for an indeterminate amount of time. Ed hoped he could tolerate the man's overly cheerful disposition when Ed was feeling less than tip-top shape.

Just as Ed was shutting his car door, a big raindrop hit the windshield. As if on cue, his shoulder started to ache faintly. More rain fell until a not-so-happy drizzle was coming down.

Oh yeah, it was going to be a long day. It had just barely started, too.

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**Whew! Okay now that the FIRST chapter is reuploaded I have to continue this don't I? Okay! Let's do this thing!**


	2. Never Take Friendship Personal

**Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own FMA or anything deriving from it, save this plot. The title of the chapter is a song by the band "Anberlin". The title is also the name of the album. The actual lyrics of the song have nothing to do with the chapter, the title is just a good foreshadow.  


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Chapter 2: Never Take Friendship Personal**

It was still raining twenty minutes after Ed left the police station. The fact that the weather on the radio said it wasn't going to clear up for a while made Ed feel all gooey inside. Actually, if anything was gooey, it was his tolerance for pain. This was just making his day wonderful.

Oh, and the fact that he was lost made things even better. Not.

Yes, Edward Elric, part of the Criminal Intelligence Division of Central City Police, a twenty-one year old man who was supposed to meet diva Winry Rockbell, was lost.

And he would never admit it to anyone—ever. At least, not at that very moment.

He swore loudly when his cell phone rang. He knew just who it would be, too. Reluctantly, he grabbed the nuisance of an electronic device on the passenger seat. He didn't even have to check the number before he answered.

"Yes, Hughes?" he growled.

There was a pause on the other line long enough to make Ed wonder if he was wrong. It _had_ happened before, but only once or twice. "You're good," came the voice. "I heard about your new assignment."

Edward rolled his eyes. "Hughes, I'm driving in the rain, and I have no idea where I'm going." Hadn't he just told himself he would _never_ tell anyone he was lost? "I don't have time to talk."

"Lighten up, Ed." There was another pause. "So…tell me about Miss Rockbell," Hughes asked easily.

"I wouldn't know. I haven't met her yet since I'm _lost_ in the _pouring rain_." Maybe if he enunciated the rain part, Hughes would call someone who wasn't driving.

"Well, be sure to call me whenever you have a chance. I would love to know more about her. I wonder if it's something in her personal life that makes her voice sound like an angel. I've heard rumors that—"

For the past five minutes, Ed had been on a secluded gravel road off the main street through suburban Central. Ed had just expected that, when he left the close streets and tall buildings of Central that he would just have to turn around, the road being a dead end or a wrong turn. What he hadn't expected was to suddenly be halted rather roughly. Before he could hold himself back, Edward's head hit the steering wheel none-too-gently. When he sat back up, he all but saw little stars going in circles around his head.

"Ed? Edward, are you still there?" came Hughes' voice through the phone.

Ed sighed, not at all pleased. "Hughes, let me call you back," he said wearily. "I just ran my car into something."

"You all right?" the detective asked. Yeah, the man was always talking about his wife and children or if someone wasn't married that they needed to find a wife or husband. But he also cared a lot for his friends. That was why Ed could stand the man.

Ed nodded. "Yeah. Just hit my head is all."

"Be careful," Hughes said. "And don't forget to—"

Edward hung up before his friend could finish his sentence. He tossed the phone on the seat next to him with a growl. Why him? Why did _his_ days always have to go bad? Why couldn't _Mustang's_ days ever go bad?

He pulled his coat on and stepped out in the pouring rain. When he looked around, he saw the faint outline of two tall pillars. When he walked closer to the hood of his car, he almost ran into a wrought iron gate. Ed hadn't realized how hard it was raining. So he leaned down to look at the front fender.

Dented very badly.

He stepped back and fisted his hands in his hair. A few choice swear words left his mouth rather loudly. To vent some of his frustration, he kicked his front tire a few times, cursing each time. He only stopped when he heard a faint crackling near the gates. It puzzled him for a minute before he approached the gate. There was a little screen, a keypad, and an intercom. Ed wiped the screen and saw someone looking back at him. Looking up showed him a small security camera pointing down at him.

"State your name and business here," the man, who looked very much like a butler, said.

"Edward Elric, Criminal Intelligence Division of Central City Police. I'm here to see Ms. Rockbell," he announced, holding up his badge.

"The gates will open in just a moment," the butler told Ed.

The blond man reached back and rubbed his neck. "Yeah, about the gate…I—"

"We will see to it, sir, when you are out of the rain." Immediately, the gates opened and the screen turned off.

Ed grumbled to himself and slid back into his car. He hoped it would start again. After about three tries, there was life in the vehicle, blessedly. But it didn't sound very pleased with him. As soon as he went through the gates, Ed's jaw dropped. She lived on a frickin' mountain! It took him five minutes to reach the top because he had to negotiate the sharp U-turns.

By the time he reached the house—no, it was a mansion—Ed was fuming. He was muttering and swearing under his breath. Once he parked the car, the front door of Winry's home opened and the man from the gate intercom appeared in the doorway. Before Ed climbed out of his car, he shoved the case file into his briefcase, put his cell phone in his inner coat pocket. He checked the gun on his shoulder harness to be sure he had it. Sure, he knew there wasn't an obvious need to have one for the meeting, but he preferred to always be prepared, or at least have it for protection.

Finding everything to his satisfaction, Ed climbed out of his car and rushed to the door, still rather frustrated. He made sure it was clearly written on his face as he went inside. As he shed his dripping coat, he scowled. As he accepted a towel to dry his hair, he scowled. Edward Elric wasn't pleased.

"Mistress Rockbell will be here momentarily. Please follow me to the sitting room." The man sure was stuffy. Ed almost gagged at the politeness issued toward him.

When they reached the sitting room, the butler informed Ed he would "fetch" Mistress Rockbell. He chuckled at the man's back and reached up to his braid. Carefully, Ed pulled the elastic cord from around his hair and shook his braid out. Or tried to shake his braid out. In his hair's current drenched state, it was hard to do much but work through it with his fingers.

Once his hair was loose, he rubbed the towel over his head to keep the rain water from dripping down his back more than it already had. As he heard footsteps and voices coming back to the sitting room, Ed started to braid his hair again. He was halfway finished when his charge and her butler came back into the room.

Edward would be lying if he said Winry Rockbell wasn't an attractive woman. She had the light blond hair that most girls dreamed of, clipped on the back of her head with a little bit left down to frame her face. Her blue eyes rivaled the sky on a clear day in mid-summer. Her complexion was flawless and her face very pale, but in a strange, healthy way. They way she carried her well-proportioned form spoke that she'd been raised right, to know she had worth and didn't need anyone else to tell her that. That was probably the second thing he had begun to admire her for.

The first had been her ability to make it as a soft opera singer in Central City. That took spunk, not to mention talent.

But at the moment, the only thing that related the lovely woman to Ed was her expression. He could sense her fear of her situation more and more as she came closer. Ed would have felt sorry for her if he hadn't known that they would probably never speak again when the ordeal was finished.

So instead, he decided it would be best to be impersonal through their time together. It would be for the best.

----------

Winry sat down on a very overstuffed beige sofa. "Sit down," she said softly, gesturing to the seat behind Ed. She rested her elbows on her knees and clasped her hands together. Slowly, he sat down and pulled his small notebook out of his shirt pocket. "Would you like some coffee?"

Mentally, Ed started to take notes on first impressions. "Yes, please." Best be polite he figured, and try for a good start. They would be together for quite a bit of time, perhaps; they didn't need to be going at each other like a cat and mouse. But if that turned out to be the case, who would be the cat and who would be the mouse? Ed couldn't help but wonder.

The butler approached him. "How would you like your coffee, sir?" he asked.

Ed looked at the man. "Black," he answered. "I'm lactose intolerant." It was a lie, but it would keep cream out of his coffee.

Then the much older man looked at Winry, unmoved by Edward's feint. "And you, Miss Rockbell?"

"Some tea, please, Primus." Winry hung her head down and stared at the floor. Then she looked up, almost shocked. "I'm sorry, my manners have run away. It's obvious, but I'm Winry Rockbell." She attempted a smile, but it came as more of a grimace.

"It's fine, Ms. Rockbell. Ed Elric."

"Just call me Winry, please."

Ed looked down at his notebook and began his notes once more. "Mm-hmm."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Winry leaning over like she was trying to see what was in his notepad. "What are you writing?" she asked.

"Notes…" he mumbled.

"Already?" Her surprise was obvious.

Ed nodded as Primus came back in. The white haired man set a saucer with a deep blue tea cup in front of Winry. Then he placed a miniature pitcher containing cream and something else containing sugar. Ed had no clue what they were called. Then the butler brought a mug the same color of Winry's cup in front of him. "Your coffee, sir. Black, as you requested."

"Thank you." Ed nodded to the man.

The butler looked at Winry. "Do you have anymore need of me, Miss Rockbell?" he asked.

"No, Primus." She looked down at the floor again and sighed. "Thank you."

When the butler was a safe distance away, Ed launched into his plan. "How long has Mr. Primus been working for you?" he asked.

She thought a moment. "For about…six, seven months?" she answered.

"How did his résumé look?" Ed wanted to know.

Winry looked up at him seriously. "Are you implying that Primus could be the one sending the letters?" she demanded.

Ed simply shrugged. "In this game, Miss Rockbell, everyone's a player," he said, "whether we want them to be or not."

"What am I in this 'game?' " she dared to ask.

Without any hesitation, he answered. "You are the victim." It was the most obvious thing in the world.

"And what are you?"

Ed smirked. "I am…I am the moderator, in case things get rough."

Winry smirked as well. "Quite modest, are we?" she asked sarcastically.

"I tend to think of it is as being confident. Anyway, to start this off, I'd like a list of all of your friends, family, and acquaintances," Ed requested. "As soon as you can compile it."

"Why?"

Edward hated that word. Inwardly, he cringed. "I'm going to run background checks," he suggested. "Remember, everyone is a player, and one or more of those players are culprits. It's my job to keep you safe and find out who is trying to hurt you."

She seemed to be contemplating his order. "Fine. But I'm not putting my family down. They did everything they could to get me where I am today. They wouldn't try to take it away." Winry's voice seemed adamant of her decision.

Ed sighed. "Do you have any siblings, Miss Rockbell?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yes, but I don't see what they would have to do with it." Now she sounded annoyed.

"Brothers or sisters?"

A scowl made its way onto her features. "Shouldn't this have been in your file over there?" Winry asked, pointing at the manila folder on the couch next to him.

He looked at her with a calm, slightly mocking smile on his lips. "Brothers or sisters?" he repeated.

She sighed. "Two sisters, two brothers, all older," she replied finally.

"Any of them have a spectacular talent that, if it were known, would make them famous?" He lifted an eyebrow as the butler walked in front of the door and then off to some unknown part of the house to do who knew what.

Winry squeezed the bridge of her nose tightly as though to relieve a headache. Ed could relate, though it wasn't a headache. It was the ache in his limbs. The smell of rain was still heavy in the air. "My oldest sister could sing as well, but she was very shy."

Ed snapped his fingers. "Bingo, a motive. If she were jealous enough, she could be the one doing this." Before Winry could protest, he quickly added, "So, see? Everyone's a player."

"She wouldn't think like that! She was happy for me!" Winry argued in defense for her sister.

With a dismayed shake of his head, Edward closed his notebook. "My little brother, a great guy. He's twenty; very smart. He knows all this stuff about metal working and armor. He can draw, too...God, he's smart," he said admiringly.

"What's your point?"

"Al makes armor...sometimes, he makes more money that I do off of one suit of armor." Ed looked at Winry pointedly. "I get jealous of my younger sibling. I'm the one supposed to bring home money enough to feed us, not him."

Winry was silent. Ed looked at his watch out of habit. He didn't realize that it was already eleven o'clock. His stomach hadn't even complained yet. So he stood up.

"Miss Rockbell. There is a lot of work that will have to be done, including that list from you." He paused. "I live about an hour away. If something were to happen to you here, I couldn't make it in time, driving so far."

Winry stood as well. "What are you suggesting?" she asked, folding her arms over her chest.

"In order to protect you how my boss would want me to, I would have to live somewhere nearby, if not here." Ed looked around him. "It looks like you have enough room for a boarder or two."

"Two?" she echoed.

He looked at her seriously. "I just can't let my brother live alone in Central's slums. Plus, he'd kill me if I didn't ask." There was a pause. "For him to meet you, I mean. He's a big fan."

She nodded skeptically. "Right. The one that makes armor?" she asked.

"One in the same. He's the only family I have surviving." Ed smiled halfway, albeit a little painfully.

Winry moved her mouth to say "Oh," but no sound came out. "Well, if you must to do your job correctly," she relented.

Ed nodded, grateful, as his cell phone rang. It was immediately present to him, procured from his coat pocket. Edward furrowed his brow a little before answering. "Ed Elric," he said curtly into the phone.

"Hey, Brother." It was Alphonse. "You busy?"

Ed rolled his eyes. "What if I was in a very important meeting with Captain Mustang about a promotion?" he returned. To Winry, he mouthed "Younger brother." She nodded.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I'll call you back." The younger man sounded genuinely sorry.

"Wait a second, Al. I didn't say I was in a meeting. I said _what if_. Big difference. What do you need?" Then Ed pulled the phone away from his ear.

"Brother! The Handbook has something to say about tricking me!" Al yelled.

Ed looked at Winry, who appeared faintly amused. "What's up?" he asked casually. To Winry, he said, "What are you doing for lunch?"

She looked at a loss for a moment. "Nothing. Primus was going to make chef salad, I think."

"Al, meet me at the diner in town, all right? You know the one." He motioned for Winry to wait just a second. "Be there in thirty minutes." Then he hung up his phone.

"What was that about?" Winry asked.

"You're doing something for lunch now. Al wanted to meet you, and I figured that I should let him as soon as humanly possible. He can be a pest."

Winry looked at him as if she was about to blow a head gasket. "You can't do that!" she exclaimed.

Ed paused, midway pulling on his still-damp coat. "Can't do what?" he asked, looking at her over his shoulder with his notebook between his teeth.

She took a step forward and snatched the pad of paper away. "You can't just schedule a lunch for me at God knows where and expect me to be ready to go in five minutes!" she told him heatedly.

Ed looked aghast as he pulled his coat on the rest of the way. "Guess what, Miss Diva? I just did. My little brother really wants to meet you and now is the best chance. If you don't get ready in five minutes, I won't be a gentleman and pick up the bill," Ed threw back, just as heatedly.

They glared at each other for a moment. The first one to move wasn't Ed.


	3. Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of its components. The title of the chapter is a Good Charlotte song. Also, like the second chapter, the actual lyrics of the song have nothing to do with the chapter, I just liked the title.  


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Chapter 3: Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous**

Winry sat in the front passenger seat of her bodyguard's car, arms crossed over her chest and a formidable scowl written on her features. It was still raining as hard as Ed Elric had claimed it had been when he ran into her gate and dented his car. Like she cared. She was beginning to really dislike the man sitting beside her. First, he had indirectly accused her butler of being the one behind the ordeal of the threat notes. Then he had, indirectly again, accused her family and friends of the same thing; used her older sister as an example for the culprit; invited himself and his brother to live with her; and finally, bodily removed her from her own home to eat at some unknown place a half an hour away. Some bodyguard. She was beginning to feel bruises.

"For all the fuss you put up about your makeup, you aren't applying any," he said from beside her. Casually, like he hadn't just tossed her over his shoulder effortlessly and hauled her to his car in the pouring rain.

"Do you treat all your clients like that?" she demanded, glaring at him.

"Like what?" Although he kept his eyes on the road, she saw a perplexed expression become visible on his features.

"Rudely...forcing them to eat lunch with you and your brother?" she supplied.

Ed blinked. "Oh." He paused and negotiated a turn. "No. You're my first bodyguard assignment. Usually I work undercover, finding out information about wanted criminals."

Winry quickly bit her lip to keep the very impolite words in her mouth. So instead, she opened her makeup kit and began to apply, as it was more easily put. She did her best to coordinate her makeup with her outfit. She'd had very little time to ready herself at the house so she had changed into a pair of loose black slacks and a black tank top, despite the autumn chill in the air. Atop that, she had her baby blue kitted sweater duster. It was a very warm jacket, no matter what anyone said. It was comfortable. Therefore, wearable.

"Not as girly as I thought," she heard the obnoxious driver murmur.

Winry spared him a look before putting on midnight blue eyeliner. "Hmm?"

"I said, you're don't dress as girly as I thought you would," he repeated a little louder.

She scoffed. "Mainly because someone didn't give me--"

"Bump," Ed interrupted.

On instinct, Winry pulled the pencil away from her eye and looked at him. "What?" Immediately after, the car jolted rather roughly. "Oh."

"Don't need a trip to Central General Hospital because of a makeup incident." A hint of a smile came over Ed's lips.

"Anyway, since _someone_ didn't give me enough time to get ready," she continued as if she hadn't heard him, "I grabbed the first thing I saw and changed." She reached for her eye shadow palette.

She heard Ed snort in mock laughter. "_You_ put up a fight against a gentlemanly offer of lunch." He spared her a brief look. "And most girls would jump at the chance to go out to lunch with me." He smiled insolently.

Winry rolled her eyes. "So, what type of place are we going to eat at?" she probed.

"This little place that opened about half a year ago in downtown Central, about ten minutes from where I live. Al and I know the woman who owns it really well. I have a feeling she'd be ecstatic to have you eat there," he answered. "We'll be there in about fifteen minutes, so be quick."

Again, Winry rolled her eyes and reached for her mascara. She saw Ed wince out of the corner of her eye. "What?"

"That thing looks painful," he said, tilting his head toward her.

"It's just mascara," she said, unimpressed.

"I should suggest it as an interrogation device," he thought aloud.

Winry scoffed. "You would offend women if you did," she warned. "Best not."

Ed muttered something about feminists as his cell phone rang. He swore under his breath and growled about his "sixth sense" tingling. Blindly, he searched his coat pockets until he procured the ringing item. "Yeah, Hughes?"

"Do you check your caller ID or do you just guess?" the detective asked, sounding very curious indeed.

"I just know. What do you need? I'm on my way to meet Al for lunch and the weather is still bad." Ed slowed the vehicle at a stoplight.

The excitement was very obvious in Hughes' voice when he spoke. "Did you meet her? What'd you think? Is she as pretty as her pictures?"

Ed growled. "You know, it's still raining quite hard. The last time I was talking to you, I ran my car into a gate," he muttered and shot Winry a look before driving again. "And I don't think my passenger would be very pleased with me if I ran into something with her in the car."

Winry glared at him. "You do, you have no more job—anywhere," she threatened.

"Oh, was that her?" Hughes asked rather loudly. "You're taking her to lunch already? How cute. Where are you taking her?"

Ed hung up the phone before he heard anymore. There was a distant rumble of thunder a few miles off. Winry couldn't help but feel slightly amused as she shut her makeup palette. "That was an interesting semi-one-sided conversation," she threw out casually.

She saw him visibly tense. "One of your many fans," Ed muttered.

"Are you not?" she asked sweetly.

"My brother plays your music when he works in the basement. I hear it after dinner if his muses suit him," he returned shortly.

From the expression he had, Winry supposed she wasn't going to get any more positive answers from him. Not that she wanted to. She didn't even want to eat lunch with him. Yet here she was...sitting in his car, on the way to some diner in a thug infested part of Central. Well, what part of Central wasn't thug infested, actually? It was just sheer luck that people made it though without being mugged.

She stole another look at her bodyguard. His expression was quite grim, almost pained. What could be bothering him?

Another thought came to her. When she'd been thrown over his shoulder, his shoulder hadn't felt like skin. It had been cold and hard...kind of like metal. But that had been through his thick coat and his shirt, so she was probably mistaken. It could have been anything...the stress of the moment of being tossed around or some police-like gear he had to wear all the time. And she couldn't ask, because she wasn't sure at all if she had really felt metal. She didn't want to sound like an idiot their first day of meeting. Her hair might have been blond, but his was too. She knew well enough not to ask when she didn't have enough details to wonder in the first place.

When Winry looked up, Ed was parking the car in front of a corner side diner. The place was slightly dingy looking, but it could have been the dirty windshield and the rain she was looking through. She had definitely dined in better. As she squinted through said rain and windshield, she saw a person standing beneath the overhanging roof, rubbing his gloved hands together. She looked at Ed and saw him shaking his head.

"That freezing person would be my brother...he's too polite for his own good," he murmured as he rooted around the messy backseat.

"What are you looking for?" Winry asked softly, wanting to touch his arm out of curiosity, just to see if it was metal.

He didn't answer for a few seconds until he held up some object. "An umbrella for you. Don't need you to be soaked as we cross the parking lot..." he said. "Stay in your seat." A serious look came over his face before he climbed out of the car.

Winry had no clue what was going through his head until he rounded the hood of the car and stood beside her door. She watched him open the umbrella and reach for the door handle. Old fashioned chivalry, she thought. How many men opened doors for women anymore? And open umbrellas so they didn't get wet in the pouring rain?

She offered him a smile. She would never know how much it inwardly and subconsciously affected him.

**-------------**

Al peered through the rain at his brother and almost fell over. His brother, the cold-to-anyone-outside-their-small-family-network was being polite to a complete stranger? More so, where had he found said complete stranger? It wasn't like Ed to show kindness to someone he didn't know. Unless there was something in it for him, that is. It was shallow, but that's just who Ed had turned into the last couple of years.

With a closer look, Al stumbled over his own feet. That wasn't just some stranger. It was Winry Rockbell! He literally felt his jaw drop. Edward hadn't told him Winry would be with them for lunch! Al had merely dressed in a sweater and nearly holy jeans! That was nothing to wear to meet someone famous.

"Hey, Al," Ed announced when they were all on the sidewalk. "Winry, this is my brother Alphonse, better known as Al. Al, Winry Rockbell." He gestured between both of them as he spoke.

Al smiled nervously. "It's an honor to meet you, Miss Rockbell," he said as politely as he could.

"A pleasure, Al," she replied. "Just call me Winry, please. Ed has told me plenty of good things about you."

They both looked at Edward. Al was more curious. "Oh, really?" Edward immediately fumbled and rubbed his neck, blushing.

"Let's go inside. It's cold and rainy. I don't need Miss Rockbell getting sick," he muttered, still blushing as he headed towards the entrance.

"Oh yeah?" Winry smirked. "You look a little warm. Your cheeks are flushed. Maybe we should be worrying about you getting sick already," she called at him.

Ed didn't respond. He merely opened the door and disappeared inside. Al and Winry grinned at each other. She seemed like a very nice person, he thought. All of the attention her being famous brought hadn't gone to her head, it appeared. Al was happy. One of his friends that hadn't breathed in too many toxic metals might turn out to be someone famous. How ironic... It brought a smile to his face.

"Well, he's right. If we stay out here, we'll catch our death," Winry said, breaking into his thoughts.

Al nodded and started towards the door. He opened it for the blond woman with a smile. When they were all sitting down at a booth, Al watched his brother study the menu fervently. A little while later, Ed shoved the slip of laminated paper down the table to Winry. It wasn't like they needed to look at the menu; they had memorized it long ago. Al knew his brother was thinking the same thing when he pushed his hair back from his forehead.

"Brother!" Al exclaimed suddenly. Ed looked at him, surprised. "What happened to your forehead?"

The golden-eyed man reached up to touch his forehead. He winced when his fingers came in contact with his skin. It seemed to take him a moment to remember what had happened from the way he hesitated. "Oh. I ran my car into Miss Rockbell's gate and banged my head on the steering wheel." He shot Winry a look.

"There's a bruise there already," Al pointed out.

Edward rolled his eyes. "Lovely. Who knows what comments the guys will make about it," he grumbled.

Winry leaned over and looked at him. "Wow, there is a bruise. That must have just come up since you parked your car," she mused.

"It'll go away soon," he growled.

Then a new voice entered the conversation. "Well my, my. Look what the storm blew in," a sultry voice said. Then the possessor of the voice became visible. "Edward Elric, I haven't seen you in quite a while."

"Hey, Quintus." Ed looked up at the woman and smiled warmly.

Al caught his breath at the same time as he looked up at Quintus. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She had long, full black hair that hung down below her waist. Her skin was pale and only looked more so against her dark makeup. She had a low, silky voice that could make a man mad if she willed it. But she wasn't the best person to forge a relationship with, and Al knew that just from looking at her. Though there had been something - Al didn't know what exactly - between her and Ed. Al could tell for two and more reasons, those two being that Ed and Quintus had seen a lot of each other about four months ago. And, there was this almost tangible connection between them. Anyone who could miss that could also miss hitting the broad side of a barn with a large rock.

When Al tuned back in, it was to see a grumbling Edward sitting across from him. Al looked at Winry, who was smiling, and then at Quintus. She looked a little surprised, or at the very least taken aback, to have Winry Rockbell sitting in her diner.

"It was raining, okay?" Ed suddenly spoke up. So they weren't discussing Winry's presence. They were discussing Ed's driving abilities. "And it still is! See?" He gestured with his right hand towards the window. Then time seemed to slow down as the button on his sleeve cuff came undone. It was a natural reaction for people to look where someone was gesturing, and Al had no clue if his brother had told Winry about his...condition.

It seemed Edward noticed his cuff, too, since he brought his hand back in quickly, shooting a quick gaze at Winry and then at the table as he buttoned his sleeve. There was an awkward silence before Ed cleared his throat, a sure sign to get anyone's attention. "Well, are you two ready to order?" he asked.

"Right." Winry looked at the menu. She seemed to understand something odd had happened, but hadn't been sure what it had been exactly. It appeared they hadn't gotten around to Ed's limbs yet. Al doubted they would, since Edward didn't like to talk about that subject, even with his younger brother. "Um...a salad?" Winry asked, smiling at Quintus.

"A salad it is," the obviously older woman said and wrote it down. "What type of dressing would you like?"

"Italian, please."

"And you, guys?" Quintus looked at them.

Ed and Al exchanged looks. "The usual," they said simultaneously.

"All right. I'll be back with your orders soon. And Edward," she said a little louder to gain his attention. "I'll bring out something to cover up your bruise." She winked at him.

Al looked at his brother and saw him sink down in his seat, grumbling. It was really a funny sight. His brother was twenty-one-years old. Occasionally, he acted his age, but usually he acted like a teenager. It was pretty amusing most of the time since Ed still looked like a teenager. Which that was a good thing for him...if it wasn't for his boyish looks, then Edward would have a hard time finding someone to settle down with because of his foul attitude. Sometimes Al even wanted to yell at him from him being so obstinate.

A few minutes and some small talk later, their food was brought out. Quintus set a stool beside Ed and pulled a little zipper bag from her mini-apron around her waist. "Don't eat yet," she started to say, but Ed had already grabbed his hamburger and taken a bite out of it. The other people at the table laughed at him.

"Oops." He offered a grin over his full mouth and continued chewing. He was so intent on his food that he didn't realize what Quintus was doing until he felt a sting on his forehead. "Hey now! What are you doing?" Al looked at her and saw a little palette of skin colored cream. She held a spongy looking mat in her other hand.

"I'm covering up your bruise since you were complaining about it earlier," she informed him. "Now be quiet. And wipe your mouth."

Al and Winry laughed at them. But Al couldn't help noticing the way that Winry kept looking between them. She noticed their connection, too. Did it bother her? If it did bother her, why would she have a problem with it? It didn't appear that she liked Edward overmuch. Or did she?


	4. Slippers

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of it's components. I was too lazy and stumped to think of a song fitting for this chapter. :P  


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Chapter 4**

Winry leaned her head against the seat as Ed parked the car in front of his house. They had just finished lunch at the diner. Quintus had joined them for a while to socialize until more customers had come in for a late lunch. As she'd left to attend to them, she'd made a quiet comment about the meal being "on the house." Winry had smiled then. She had seen the connection between the woman and Edward; how could she have possibly missed it? It was almost tangible. There had just been a way their words to each other formed, and just the way they seemed to understand wanted to say before they had finished a sentence. The way Ed had looked at Quintus had spoken of the strange affection they shared. He didn't seem like the type of guy who liked others to know what he was feeling. If he ever did show his feelings to anyone willingly, Winry figured whoever was on the receiving end of the words would have to sift through them to find what he truly meant.

When she heard him take the keys out of the ignition, Winry turned her gaze to Edward. He was giving her a stern look. "Stay," he told her firmly. Then he climbed out of the car into the cool air. She watched him shiver as he rounded the hood and approached her door. She sighed when he opened it and she slid out.

"You know, I'm fully capable of opening my own door?" she asked, adjusting her sweater on her shoulders. It had stopped raining, but the scent of it was still in the air.

Ed looked at her. "I know. But I can open it, too," he replied, voice almost nonchalant. "This is my house, nothing extravagant. Two men live here, so it isn't going to be the cleanest place ever." His voice carried what could have been embarrassment, but Winry wasn't sure. Before she could analyze it further, he turned and started toward the house. As she began to follow, she heard a second car park and assumed – hoped, actually – that it was his brother.

"Did Ed warn you about the house?" she heard Al ask from behind her. She jumped slightly, the sudden sound of his voice startling her. He sounded faintly amused, yet a little nervous at the same time.

Winry turned around so she was walking backwards. "Yeah, he did. He also told me earlier that we were only here to pick up a few things, and that I had to stay in the living room," she answered, grinning a little.

She saw Al roll his eyes. "Yeah, well…he's probably right. The house is a mess, even though I tried cleaning it today. I was up at about six in the morning with nothing better to do after eating breakfast and checking my work downstairs."

"Oh yeah, you work with armor, right?" Winry asked, smiling at him.

As they reached the front stoop, Alphonse gave her a surprised yet pleased look. "Yeah. It's fun, but there isn't much to do right now. There aren't any faires I have to make armor for, or repair, so business is slow."

Winry looked around the living room when they entered the house. She heard Al shut the door behind them, but she was too busy taking in her surroundings to acknowledge anything further. The house may have been messy, yes, but it didn't take away from the place. The living room looked very homey, with bookshelves lining the wall to the immediate left. And sure enough, those bookshelves were put to good use as there were books taking up every bit of space, and then some on the available surfaces in the room. There was a spot near the center of the wall left open for the TV to sit against.

To her right was a bare white wall. A couch and recliner were a few feet away from the wall, but not far enough to be in the middle of the room. Across the room there were countertops from the kitchen. There was a space for a walkway before a banister separated the kitchen completely from the living room. Cabinets hung from the ceiling above the counters. The same set up was all around the kitchen. In the far corner of the room was a door, which Winry assumed led to a laundry room of some sort.

From what she could see, Edward's claim of "nothing extravagant" was a very modest statement. If she could have chosen a small house to live in, a place like Edward's would be her first choice.

She saw Edward walk out of the door in the far corner, a scowl she found was his usual expression resting on his face. When he looked at her, she offered him a smile. Just because he was a grumpy person didn't mean she had to be one, too.

"Don't touch anything," he told her sternly. Then he seemed to soften a little, visibly, as he gestured to the couch. "Have a seat, watch TV." Then he ensconced himself in grabbing whatever he needed.

Winry smiled to herself when she took his offer to sit. He was perhaps the most impossible person she had come across, but he had a nice house. She had to credit him with that.

---------------

Over the next couple days, Edward and Alphonse had been accustoming themselves to living in a house with a female. They were also working on moving in the few belongings they had brought along. Alphonse, since he claimed he wouldn't be around much in the mornings, had brought a couple books to read. He was a very easy person to please. Edward had packed any case files he'd had lying around his home and very few other miscellaneous items that would keep him occupied when he wasn't researching. He had found on the second day in the house that Winry had an enormous library and he was more than happy to hide himself there. Other than the fact that they were now living with a woman, things were great.

Winry kept her house slightly cool for the winter time, so Edward had no problem keeping his prosthetics hidden beneath socks and his custom made glove. It was the color of his skin and had the appearance of skin, but was made of waterproof suede. If anyone ever asked, he would tell them it was a glove to help rebuild strength in his hand because of a previous accident. It wasn't exactly true, but it worked. He'd never argued with it. Ed typically wore it when he was at work or running errands, simply because he didn't like to answer the questions it brought. At home, the glove may as well have been nonexistent.

Edward was hidden away in the library, studying some case file that Mustang had yet to even crack open. It made Edward laugh inwardly. That man was the worst when it came to paperwork; it was almost once in a blue moon when he actually sat down to do it. Sadly, most case files fell under "paperwork" to the man, especially cases he didn't want to do. They were usually dropped on subordinates' desks.

With a sigh, Ed lifted his hand to run through his hair – this case file was very frustrating – then caught himself. He wasn't wearing his glove, and way too often he'd snagged his hair in the metal joints. He'd decided to shed his glove earlier, despite how bad of an idea it was. Also, he'd taken off his socks since the fireplace made the library quite warm. It wasn't something he usually did, sit without his glove and socks, but he had quick enough reflexes to hide his food should the need arise.

Suddenly the door opened, startling Ed. Immediately, he pulled his foot up under his right thigh and then gazed back down at his papers importantly. He peeked out of the corner of his eye and saw it was only Al to enter the room. With a bit of a frustrated look at his brother, Edward lowered his foot again.

"Brother, you know that's risky," Al pointed out. "Winry could have been right behind me."

Ed looked out the door behind Al. "Is she?" Al shook his head. "Then we're okay. I was feeling a little…." He trailed off with a shrug, unable to find a decent word to explain how he was feeling.

"Contained? Trapped?" Al supplied.

"Hidden. So I had to escape. Plus, I like the sound my foot makes when I walk." To prove his point, Ed tapped his foot on the ground, grinning.

Before Al had a chance to respond, the phone rang. Ed reached to the handset and waited until it stopped ringing. When he was sure someone had answered, he turned the phone on and listened. He had been monitoring _all_ phone calls, in and out. The phone had a nifty little device that let him know if someone was on the phone if he hadn't been paying attention. And until he could get a crew out to tap the lines, he was stuck listening to them and recording them all on his own until then.

The phone conversation Edward began recording was a slightly strange one.

"I told you not to call here unless it was an emergency." It was Primus talking.

"I know, but I have news for you that couldn't wait." Was that…? No, couldn't be her…

Primus sighed very audibly. "What is it? I have work I need to be doing," he said in an aggravated manner.

"Wow, that's a first. Are you aware who your_ employer's_ bodyguard is?" the female voice asked. Edward didn't miss the inflection on the word "employer".

"Of course I am. Edward Elric. He works for Central Police in the Criminal Intelligence Division. His younger brother lives with him because their mother died when they were young. They're alchemists. I've done my homework too, you know." Primus sounded more frustrated when there was a noise in the background that sounded like a pan falling to the ground. "Is there anything really important that can't wait, because I'm supposed to be cooking dinner," he said. It really didn't sound how Primus would talk, so Ed thought something was up.

"Well you know he's the one," the other voice whispered a few moments later, "that I was with four months ago. Be careful with him. If he smells a rat, he'll find it."

There was silence. "Is that all?"

"Yes. I thought it would help you, but I guess not. Now I have work to do," the woman said importantly and hung up.

Edward waited a moment until he heard Primus hang up, too, before he pushed the off button on the handset. He shook his head in disbelief.

"Who was that?" Al asked, pulling up a chair and sitting in it backwards.

Still shaking his head, Ed looked up at his brother. "Primus, and it sounded like he was talking to—"

"Edward! Alphonse!" Winry shouted, very probably at the top of her opera singer lungs. Accompanying her voice were footsteps.

Ed and Al looked at each other, panicked, but Ed recovered quickly enough to reach over and pull his sock on. Just as the door opened and Winry burst in, Ed had pulled his sock on all the way and dropped his hand beside him. She looked at him and how he was sitting a little curiously, but dismissed it. "Who was on the phone?" she asked.

The older man looked at Al hesitantly. "Someone for Primus," he answered, wondering if he'd just been the one to take the first scoop out of his grave.

"Primus?" Winry looked slightly puzzled.

Ed nodded, to her and to himself. Yes, he had most definitely just started his own grave. And he couldn't help but deepen it. "Maybe his sister or something," he said. Carefully, he began to pull his glove on, trying to appear natural, like he wasn't doing anything at all.

"But I didn't think he had a sister, or any living family for that matter, poor man," she said, more to herself at the end.

Officially nervous now, Ed stammered for words. "I don't know," he finally managed. "I need to get back to work." As if it were pertinent to life, he gestured to the table. Then his sleeve dared to creep up his wrist, over his glove. He pulled his arm back in and tugged his sleeve down in what he hoped was an inconspicuous manner.

Winry looked at him, slightly suspicious, but shook her head. "Dinner is almost ready," she said before walking out.

Ed let out a breath slowly. Al looked at him pointedly. "You know, if you just tell her that you have prosthetics, you can stop worrying about hiding them from her," he said easily.

"No." Edward shook his head. "If I tell her, then she'll ask questions. And she doesn't need any answers. Neither do you." He stood up quickly, dismissing the matter.

"Brother, where are you going?" Al asked, sounding a little frustrated.

Ed didn't stop to answer. "The bathroom," he threw over his shoulder as he left the library.

In the hall, he heard Al come after him. The older Elric turned to look at his brother. Al stopped in front of him and dropped a pair of slippers on the floor. "You forgot these," he said, a frustrated look on his face, and tromped down the stairs.

Ed sighed and slid his feet into the manly-looking slippers. Then he proceeded to the bathroom, wordlessly.

Just because he was Winry Rockbell's bodyguard didn't mean they had to know everything about each other. He just had to know everything about her. That was that.


	5. Why Can't I?

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of its components. The title of the chapter is a song by Liz Phair. It _does_ have something to do with Winry's feelings in the first half of the chapter. It applies only in sarcasm to the second portion of the chapter.****

* * *

Chapter 5: Why Can't I?**

It was later that night when Winry was sitting in her favorite spot in her house—the third floor alcove. The room it was in was more of a storage room for Winry's old music books. Not all of them were vocal books; she could play the piano, too. Mostly by ear, but she had a few books containing songs she hadn't been able to transcribe in her head. Those songs were very few and far between. She had also learned a couple songs on her own. But the majority of the music books were vocal.

In a few select boxes were reading books, though. Most all of them were the romance books her mother and grandmother had stockpiled. A lot of them were historical. Winry's favorite historical romances were the ones set in a medieval period. Though most of the marriages then were arranged and loveless, the people who married for love really loved each other. That was what she dreamed of: loving the man she married more than life itself.

There were a few tragedies in there. One story was set back in the early 1900s. The two people were the same age, sixteen for most of the story. Sometimes she felt they liked each other and were too shy to express it. Other times they would bicker rather violently, he with a silver tongue and she with some tool. Needless to say, those were the times she _really_ thought they liked each other and just wouldn't admit it for their pride. A lot of mystery and conspiracy was involved in the plot. The ending of the story wasn't her very favorite, but it was a tragedy. The boy had disappeared one day and never come back to the girl.

She sighed and looked out the window.

Winry would _never_ admit to anyone she was a sappy romantic. That's why some of her songs were in Latin. Hardly anyone knew the language anymore.

She looked out of the window distractedly. There was a notebook and a Latin dictionary before her; she was supposed to be writing lyrics for songs, but she was having problems putting her words on paper. Sure, there were plenty of lines skittering about in her head, but she couldn't latch onto them for the life of her. One word, though, kept taunting her mercilessly: gold.

She would think 'gold,' and immediately _he_ would come to mind, with his arrogant smirk, gold hair, and gold eyes. _He_ was currently outside in her garden, conveniently in her view. He was doing pull-ups on a tree branch at present. Earlier, he'd been doing push-ups on the stones in the garden pond. He would probably be coming inside soon, because it was getting dark quickly. Plus, it had to be freezing outside. The weather predicted snow flurries over the next couple nights. How he could stand to be outside in such cold weather, Winry had no idea. Just watching him made her shiver.

Suddenly, Edward dropped to the ground and landed in a crouch. That made Winry realize just how far up that branch had been. It was quite a few feet over his head. Even though Ed was diminutive, he wasn't _that_ short. She watch him rise to a standing position and stretch his arms. Then he started to look around a little suspiciously. When his gaze settled on the window, Winry felt her breath leave her. He couldn't see her, could he? She was three stories up in a ten-foot ceiling house. So she was about thirty feet off the ground, give or take. He couldn't see her. He was just staring off into the distance. That's right.

Now Winry just had to think of an excuse as to why she'd lost her breath.

It wasn't like she _cared_ if he had been looking at her. So what? She would have looked at him for a little while if she'd seen him. He _was_ pretty easy on the eyes, and that was an understatement. And she knew, without having to boast, that she was pretty. Maybe she wasn't the most beautiful creature ever to grace the eyes of man, but she was decent enough to at least get cat calls occasionally. But Edward...she was surprised someone hadn't jumped him yet. It was probably the frown that seemed to settle on his features that kept people away from him.

Winry shook her head suddenly, catching herself. She was _not_ going to think on that now! She couldn't develop a crush on her _bodyguard_! That was just wrong. She was paying him to keep her safe, not anything else! A fierce blush came to her cheeks. It increased when she heard the front door slam three stories below her. Now she was going to be summoned downstairs, and very probably lectured on the dangers of being all the way upstairs without anyone with her.

Like anyone was going to break into her house and then lie in wait for her in her reading room. The thought itself was enough to make her shake her head in frustration. It was crazy.

Nevertheless, she cast a wary glance around the room before hurrying down the spiral staircase lining the walls. When she reached the second floor, she had worked herself up slightly and was scolding herself for letting such silly ideas get out of hand. She was so busy mentally berating herself that she didn't notice Edward until she about plowed into him in the hallway. Immediately, she jumped back and pushed her hair behind her ears. It was a few seconds later she registered something...

His right arm was freezing! But his cheeks looked a little flushed from heat, and not just because he had a frustrated look on his face.

"Where were you?" he demanded.

She blinked. "Upstairs. Didn't you see me?" Winry asked, looking at him stupidly.

Ed nodded. "Yes, but what's upstairs?" He looked rather impatient.

"My books," she drew out like he was lacking a few wits. Then she remembered. "My notebook! I left it up there."

He didn't seem to care, though. "Why were you running down the stairs?"

Did he have nothing but questions for her? "I...I was thinking. I figured that you would yell at me or something for being upstairs without anyone." Then she felt the ridiculousness of the thought come back. "And it isn't like there's someone lying in wait up there to kill me. It _is_ my house." With the thought of that, though, came the unsettling feelings that her subconscious had previously procured. She shivered.

"I'll go get your notebook. Go find Al," he said and brushed passed her. As he did, Winry felt the chill in his arm and shivered again for that reason. She would bring it up later. For now, she sighed loudly and tromped down the stairs to do what he'd told her.

------------------

It should have been snowing. But instead, rain poured down. It was cold rain, though, that was for sure. And it appeared the rain liked to come after dinner. Always. And this wasn't just a light drizzle, either. Rain was pounding on the house like it was determined to beat a hole in the roof. Lightening would flash and thunder would crash just after. It was an all-out assault on the house, with the attacker being the elements. There was a very displeased member of the house, as well.

Said displeased member was currently slipping down the stairs at a wee hour of the morning, clad in long stretch pants and a thin, white undershirt. In one hand, he had a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. In the other, he had a bowl he'd fashioned as an ashtray. Every step he took down the stairs, he had to wince. The pain in his shoulder and knee were overwhelming, at the point that it might take two smokes to ease the pain. He certainly hoped it would, because his nerves were shot, as well.

All of the handstands he'd been doing to keep his prosthetics hidden were frustrating him to no end. He was tempted to just tell Winry and walk around barefoot again. He didn't mind his glove; he went about half the day wearing it normally. So the glove didn't phase him. Socks did, however. That's why he had none on now. Even though it was winter, he didn't care for socks overmuch.

Edward disengaged the security lock in a subconscious effort and trudged outside. Luckily, Winry had a covered porch through the kitchen. He could go back inside and find something to get the taste of nicotine out of his mouth. That was the only downside of his pain relief method. Besides, the obvious of lung cancer. But the day Edward died of lung cancer before Jean Havoc was the day Edward would roll on his back and then heel to Roy Mustang. _That_ day would _never_ come. _Ever_.

By the time Edward had smoked half a cigarette, his pain had yet to show any signs of going away. His limbs were still throbbing enough to make his breathing raspy and heavy. He sat up on his own accord when he heard the door open. He burned the cigarette out on his right arm quickly. No use in letting anyone known about his "method" if they didn't have to. He especially didn't want Al to know.

But it was Winry who stepped out. "What are you doing out here?" she asked.

Before Edward could answer, lightening flashed across the sky and illuminated the porch. He grabbed his shoulder when the thunder crashed very soon after. He heard Winry's gasp when the night sky returned to darkness again. He might have cared more about her reaction if he hadn't been hurting so terribly in his shoulder and leg. But since he _was_ hurting, he didn't care much for how she responded to his "condition."

"Edward...wh-what was that?" she asked hesitantly, still in shock.

He opened one eye and looked at her. The rude answer was out of his mouth before he could stop it. "It's my arm. What did you think it was? I have a leg like it, too. You wanna see that?" he snapped, then winced as another rumble of thunder sounded. He gritted his teeth and let out a slow breath. Then his breathing changed to short, quick gasps from the pain.

Winry was silent for a long while. He wondered if she was too in shock to speak. But words came forth eventually. "What were you doing out here?" she asked, latching her hands to a chair. Likely to keep herself upright, Ed mused.

Hesitantly, he looked down at his left hand. The halfway crushed cigarette was still between his fingers. He could tell her. It really was nothing. "I was having a smoke," he answered, holding out his hand.

"I didn't know you smo—"

He cut her off. "I don't. The term 'smoking' implies more than a cigarette everyday." When his knee throbbed, he reached for his lighter. "I," he continued when he clamped the filter between his lips, "do not." He held the flame from his lighter over the end of the cigarette and took a deep breath. The acrid taste of nicotine filled his mouth and lungs.

"What are you doing now?" Winry asked, sounding like she had a point he didn't.

He took a slow drag. "Relieving pain," he breathed, expelling the smoke in a long, blue-gray stream.

He could feel her frustrated gaze settling on him. "What pain?" Winry pressed.

Edward flicked the ash into his borrowed 'ashtray.' "That is none of your business," he replied curtly, taking another drag.

There was a harsh, but not drawn out silence, before Winry spoke up. "Your shoulder, right? That's what hurts." She seemed to want to say more, but stopped herself short. Edward took another drag and lay back down on his arrangement of chairs. "Why do you have to have metal limbs?" she asked after a while.

Upside-down, he gave her a stupid look. "Maybe because I lost my real ones?" he suggested.

"How?"

Just as he'd begun to feel better again, used to explaining a little bit about himself, Edward felt his frustration flare up again. "None of your business." His repeated response was delivered curtly. He hoped she would leave him alone soon. At this rate, he would probably end up smoking three cigarettes. That would be lovely. He would wake up smelling like nicotine and have to explain it to Alphonse. That would be a peachy beginning to his day, since Al didn't approve of smoking.

But Ed didn't smoke, he told himself as he stubbed out the smoldering ash on the end of the cigarette. He relieved pain.

"Well, that's not fair, Edward. You interrogated me the other day. You know everything about me; why can't I know something about you?" She folded her arms over her chest, looking offended.

He smirked at her, still upside-down. "That's how it works; you hire me to protect you. To protect you, I have to know enough about you and your habits." He reached up onto the bench for the pack of cigarettes with his right hand and winced a little. "That's how it works," he reiterated.

Winry stood up straight. If looks could kill, Edward had a feeling he wouldn't be among the world of the living anymore. She stuck her chin out stubbornly and returned inside. He took a long drag on his newly lit cigarette and then watched the smoke he expelled swirl above him. Tomorrow, he felt, was going to be a long day.

* * *

The next morning, Edward crawled out of bed and into the shower, mightily dismayed at his current scent. He smelled heavily of nicotine, especially in his hair. After Winry had left, he'd smoked two more cigarettes, including the one he'd lit right before she'd left. Sure, he'd felt better after the second one, but his nerves had still been fussing at him rather loudly. So he'd tortured his lungs more before finally retiring inside. Now if he could just get that smell off of him, all would be right with the world.

Well, almost. Winry was likely still upset with him. He didn't mind, though. If she was mad at him, then she would leave him alone. And after their little run in the previous night, he wouldn't mind it at all. But now he could actually walk around without socks! With a little smile, he stole a glance down at his feet, reasoning with himself that it was to get the shampoo from the back of his head and not to have a peek at his metal leg.

Strangely, he was quite proud of them. Just because he hid them didn't mean he was ashamed of them. He hid them because he didn't want to answer questions on "Why?" and "How?" Heck, he didn't even like to answer those questions to _himself_! So anyone who thought he would answer to them about _that day _was sorely lacking their wits. And, it was no one else's business. It wasn't even Al's. No, that night was better left buried as deep as it could go in Edward's heart. Never mind that it had caused him to shun much for the past three years; he would be the first to admit that he'd missed out on a lot. But he wouldn't let it all stop him from going on. Ed had hardened his heart against those thoughts and gone on as soon as he had left the hospital one year after.

As Ed tromped down the stairs, he was waving his hand in front of his face as if he were trying to dispel his cloud of thoughts. But they followed him down to the first landing. As his feet touched the cool wood, he looked out over the covered porch and thought of the previous night. Winry knew. She had asked questions. He hadn't answered her, so she was bound to ask Al. And once she found out that even _he_ didn't know, Winry would be rather upset at Edward for keeping secrets from his family. Then another thought hit him. She'd been there last night. She knew of his pain relief method. Maybe she would assume it was nothing and just forget it.

Or she could ask Al what pain he was relieving. That would lead to more questions and then Al would know.

That would be lovely.

He shook his head and trudged into the kitchen.

And into a whole mess of trouble of his own making. And he knew exactly why Al was giving him a look that spoke of much anger.

Edward had left his ashtray outside, full of ash.


	6. Larger Than Life

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of its components. The title of the chapter is a song by the band Frou Frou. It was sung by Jennifer Saunders at the end of Shrek 2.  
****

* * *

Chapter 6: Larger Than Life**

Winry looked up from her papers when she heard Edward walk into the kitchen. At first he looked around with his usual arrogant manner until his gaze settled on Al. Then the arrogance from his face dissipated into surprise. She could clearly see the word, "Oops," written on his features. Then his eyes flashed to her and he looked slightly accusing. Immediately, she felt defensive. "Don't look at me like that, I didn't do anything!" she said crossly, resuming her bowl of cereal and stack of papers. She looked up under her eyelashes to watch the goings-on anyway.

Al was still sitting calmly at the table, looking at Edward. She vaguely saw him gesture to something beside him in a casual manner. "What's this?" she heard him ask.

Immediately, she flicked her eyes to Edward to see his reaction. He still looked a little taken aback at his brother's question. "A...bowl?" he suggested, glancing at said bowl nervously. Winry knew exactly what it was. Why didn't Al know his brother's 'pain relief method?'

"Filled with...?" he encouraged with a sickening helpfulness.

Edward changed his disposition from "nervous" to "vexed." He sighed loudly. "Isn't it obvious?" he growled, yanking open the fridge and taking out the orange juice.

She opened her mouth before she could stop herself. "Glass, Edward," she reminded. When she felt both brothers' gazes on her, she buried herself back into her papers discretely. Once she was sure they had forgotten about her again, she peered up once more. Then she was quite pleased to see Edward pouring the juice into a glass.

"Do you want any, Winry?" he asked her.

It took her a moment to recover. "Sure." She pointedly ignored the mug of coffee just to the side of her hand, hidden from his view. After a moment, there was a tall, pink tinted glass of orange juice next to her. And also a little less-than-averaged height, twenty-one-year-old man sitting beside her.

"Why was there a bowl with cigarette ash on the porch, Edward?" Al wanted to know, finally cutting to the chase. That was the first time Winry had heard Alphonse use his brother's name, and it sounded like a rare occurrence. Maybe he reserved it for when he was half-past mad, a quarter-to insane?

Edward seemed to not want to answer, as he suddenly started inspecting his glass of orange juice with keen interest. That frustrated Winry a little that he wouldn't answer his brother so she spoke up. "You haven't told your brother your...'pain relief method?' " she asked sweetly, looking at him with an innocent expression.

"Winry," he muttered. "_You_ weren't even supposed to know about it." He glared at her. "Nosy people messing in my affairs." He took a sip of his juice.

"Well? What pain relief method?" Al pressed, looking vastly nonplussed.

Edward began mumbling under his breath. Winry caught a couple words like "...too early..." and "...arguing...' Then finally he seemed to want to just give up. Obviously, he'd meant that it was too early to be arguing. "Do you remember when that shrink diagnosed me with 'phantom pains?' " he asked, sounding a little frustrated.

Al nodded, still looking a little vexed.

"You remember all the things I tried to relieve the pains?"

Al took a strained breath. "What's your point, Brother?" he hissed.

"Well, they usually happen when it's rainy and thunder out. A couple months ago, Havoc offered me a cigarette since I was tense - and in pain. I went into the bathroom and laid on the bench to smoke. I felt better. Something in the—"

"And you think that because it makes you feel better that it's okay to smoke?" Al demanded, looking mightily hurt.

Ed stood up and glared. "Yes, I do. It's better than not getting any sleep and trying to keep Winry safe here," he threw back, gesturing down towards her.

"Don't bring me into this," she said needlessly, holding up her hands in a gesture of surrender.

Al gritted his teeth and turned to run up the stairs. Edward chewed on his lip for a moment before sitting back down. He let out a frustrated sigh. Winry knew the feeling and could relate. She'd done the like on more than one occasion concerning him. And she would be lying if she said she wasn't a little irritated at him, as well, at the moment.

"You never told your brother you smoked? What type of family relationship is that?" she asked, trying to sound neutral.

She could feel his golden gaze burning the side of her face. She continued staring down at her notebook, not really seeing it. "I was...it was for his own good, Winry. I didn't need him worrying about the health risks of it when it was the one thing that made me feel better, aside from freezing us out of the house," he told her, sounding a lot calmer than what she guessed his expression set off. "And if he knew before now, he would have demanded that I stop." He paused. "Would I sound like an addict if I said that I couldn't?" he asked as if he actually cared what she thought.

Winry looked at him quizzically. "Yes. Why? Are you?" she returned easily, taking a sip of her orange juice.

He shook his head immediately. "No. I don't smoke because of stress; only when my phantom pains are setting in. If you discount last night, of course," he added hesitantly.

"Last night?" Winry thought aloud. "Oh." She looked down at his feet and saw he wasn't wearing socks or those slippers he had declared manly and challenged anyone to argue with him about. "You know, you could have just said something."

"Would you have asked questions?" he countered defensively, reaching for his glass.

She thought a moment. "Maybe. Probably," she answered as truthfully as she could.

"You did anyway. But now you know. And it's still none of your business. Don't think that just because two of my secrets have been bared to the world means you get to know everything about them," he told her, setting his glass back down.

Winry chuckled to herself. "No worries," she told him, still laughing a little. She reached for her glass of orange juice, still looking at him with a bit of a smile. And since she wasn't paying attention to her hand, Winry felt her fingers jam into the glass, cause it to topple one way, swivel a little on the bottom edge and then finally spill, heading towards her and Ed.

He swore. She yelped in a little bit of surprise. They both stood up as the orange juice soaked the table cloth and her notebook. Then the gritted her teeth in frustration when she saw the ink on the page smearing. She reached for a dishcloth on the other side of the table and her hand brushed Edward's metal arm. They both paused for a moment before she continued reaching for the towel. She dabbed the towel over her notebook gingerly, sighing in aggravation. Once her notebook appeared that it would live, she started taking dishes off the table.

"Where's the butler when you need him?" Ed asked, attempting to jest.

Winry smiled a little and leaned over the counter to set her breakfast plate and orange juice glass in the sink. "He has Saturday mornings off," she said lightly, turning. She almost bumped into Edward. With only a few inches between them, Winry pursed her lips. This was interesting. She tried sidestepping to the right, but Edward had the same idea, opposite direction in mind. Then she tried to the left. Edward mirrored her move. Finally, Winry laughed. "Which way are you going to move?" she asked, still laughing.

"Depends," Ed murmured slowly. "Which way are you going?"

She paused a moment when she saw his hand twitch at his side. "Straight?" she offered quietly.

Then she felt a chill on her cheek. Ed wasn't wearing his glove, either. Why hadn't she noticed that? Well, she noticed it now because the metal was cold on her face as he trailed his fingertips along her cheek. She shivered unconsciously. It wasn't the late autumn chill in the air that made her do such, either. She wanted to move, to finish cleaning up the table before the juice settled in the wood. But she also wanted to stay where she was. She was afraid if she said something, then it would break the spell they were both under now. It was obvious Ed was entranced by something since he was looking at her so intently.

"You have a scar," he whispered.

Winry almost fell over from the shock. _He_ said something first? And a comment about her face, no less. If the world didn't end now, she didn't know when it would. She waited for the impact, but maybe it had already come.

"How did you manage that?" She felt him trace the outline of the scar. It was usually covered in makeup when she was outside of her home. Or meeting people in her home. But since she had nothing important to do, the scar was left available to anyone who cared to look for it.

She worked her mouth a moment until words came. "Stray wire from a car. I was helping my dad with some electrical repairs," she mumbled.

Ed drew his hand back. Immediately and rather shockingly, Winry wished he hadn't. "_You_ can do car maintenance?" he asked skeptically.

An indignant look came over her face and she pushed passed him finally. "Yes. My father's mother is a mechanic and he _had_ to know at least a _little_ about the trade or else she'd disown him. And since he knew some, I know quite a bit from him and my paternal grandmother." She reached for the other dishes only to find that they weren't there anymore. She looked at Edward strangely for a moment before bundling up the tablecloth and tossing it near a sliding wooden door.

"What does he do for a living?" Ed asked, leaning back on the bar as Winry reached for a towel.

She paused when she heard his question, though. A sobered expression crossed her features. "He was a doctor, along with my mother," she answered quietly.

"Was?"

Winry shook her head, dismissing it so she wouldn't have to tell him about that part of her past yet. It was too early for them to share their past losses. And ironically, she realized he probably thought the same thing.

After drying off the table a little, Winry reached for her notebook and considered the damage. She knew better than to write with runny ink pens. It they got wet, they would bleed all over the page. She made a few dismayed sounds as she blotted a towel on her notebook again for a little while. When Edward sat back down at the table, she stopped and looked at him, mainly because she could feel him looking at her. "Yes?" she asked politely, the feelings she'd had earlier all gone now.

"What were you writing?" he asked her, trying to make heads or tails from the blotted ink.

"They _were_ song lyrics, but now it's just ink..." she said, dismayed. "I'll have to start all over again."

Edward studied the page. "I can make out some of the words, but what are they? Some different language?" he wanted to know. "Or just blurred out?"

"It's Latin. I take it you never listen really closely when Al plays my music," Winry chided.

He looked at her, down at the paper, and then back up at Winry again. "Oh. No, not really. I'm usually working on a case file in the living room or something. That has my undivided attention to the point of _Al_ answering the phone."

"He's pretty mad at you, you know," she reminded him, smirking slightly at the advantage she had. "What are you going to say to clear things up?"

Edward leaned back in his chair. She figured he would have put it on two legs if he'd been tall enough. Which brought to mind another advantage she had on a different front: she was taller than he was, even if it was by an inch. "I'm not going to," he answered after a moment. "We've always had fights, ever since we were little. And always, I would go find him a while after our fight, since he would run off someplace." He stood up again and headed into the kitchen, his metal foot tapping the ground as he did so. It made Winry curious about how he'd come across metal limbs in the first place. "So, we sit and think about what our fight was over and then I eventually go find him."

"Oh. Okay. Well, I'm going to go upstairs and rewrite my lyrics," she said, taking her notebook in hand and searching for another pen, one that wouldn't run if it got wet again. She didn't plan for it to happen, but just in case.

As she was about to leave the kitchen, Ed stopped her. Which surprised her when he reached out to touch her arm. "Do you...do you want some company?" he asked, sounding a little unsure, or at the very least less-than-confident. Winry had to tell herself, honestly, that was the first time she'd ever seen a male lacking confidence when asking her something.

And now, the very person she least expected to want to sit with her for a long period of time was asking if he could accompany her upstairs. He could have just come with her, without asking, and just sat up there looking miserable from a torture of his own making. Instead, he'd asked if he could. _That_ was something out of the ordinary. And from the look in his eyes, the uneasy look that made her think he was afraid she would naysay him, he was actually sincere and not just trying to find a way to spend his morning. How could she tell him anything else but yes? "Uh, sure, if you want," she replied brightly. "I'm just going to be writing lyrics, nothing exciting."

He shrugged and followed her when she began walking again. "I've done most of the work I could already, so why not?"

Winry was faintly surprised, she mused, as they went up the spiral staircase. So maybe he _was_ just filling in an empty morning. She figured he might have spent a goodly while with his brother, had they still been talking to each other at the moment. When they passed his door, she heard Al conspicuously shut the barrier the rest of the way. She heard Edward chuckle from behind her. She tossed a nonplussed look at him over his shoulder. "He's really, really mad, I think," she offered, not caring that her speech had digressed a little.

"I know. He'll get over it. I'm not going to stop; it makes me feel better, and lets me sleep," Ed replied. "It's his fault for looking."

"You left _my_ bowl out there with _your_ cigarette ashes out there," she pointed out as they reached the third floor.

She pictured him shrugging nonchalantly. "I didn't think you'd miss it much; you had four others like it," he told her.

Her laughter echoed off the long, narrow hallway as she went toward the door to her storage room. "What if that particular bowl was my favorite? It'd be ruined, now, for any type of use besides your adopted one." Winry stopped in front of the door with her hand on the knob. There was a sudden strange thought that went through her mind, but it disappeared too quickly for her to figure out what it was. Did it have something to do with her feeling of déjà vu, perhaps?

"What is it?" she heard Edward ask from behind her.

Immediately, she shook her head, dismissing it. "Nothing. Just had a thought, that's all." She pushed the door open and made her way to the alcove, refusing to look around suspiciously. Maybe she would cut back on her time upstairs. At least, alone. Who knew? If the day with Edward in her "thinking room" went okay, there could be a repeat in store. However, there was also every possibility that the day could go badly for numerous reasons. But she would wait until their morning was over until she started thinking on that.

Winry jotted a few lines she could remember, and that was no easy task to remember the Latin sentence structure. She had taken Latin all through high school, and two years of junior high, so she had been rather fluent in it, even when it came to cursing. But now, it was three years later and she was twenty. Needless to say, some of her language stores had depleted a little. The structure was a little difficult, more or less backwards from regular English. Then she had to conjugate the words to make them fit properly. Lord knew that if she didn't follow the ethics of the deceased language, she'd have die-hard linguists on her tail for writing ill with Latin. But Winry didn't mind all of the work to translate her lyrics. It usually gave her ample time to consider life and escape somewhere: her thinking chamber, the garden, or occasionally off of her property. Though she highly doubted, now that Edward was 'in charge,' she would be leaving her house very often without him.

After she had written down the first verse and part of the chorus, Winry looked up to jog her memory for the lines. She surveyed the room. There was usually a random word written on the boxes that would trigger a thought, words she'd put there for that exact reason. But during her slow perusal of the room, her eyes settled on her bodyguard. He looked a little...well, she didn't know how he looked, exactly. Edward looked a little impatient, curious, frustrated, and upset at the same time. The latter two she could explain to herself; his fight with his brother had probably left him feeling that way. But impatient and curious? What did he have to feel impatient about? She could take a couple wild guesses what he found so intriguing, but wouldn't be sure unless she asked him.

She continued studying him for a while. He was staring off into space, into a far corner of the room. She knew there was a huge spider web there with an equally large arachnid inhabitant. While Winry didn't fear much without good reason, spiders being at the bottom of the list, this particular spider scared her witless. On more than one occasion had it escaped down from its web to rest on the floor a few feet away from her alcove. The most unsettling thing about it was that the eight-spindly-legged beast seemed to always be in the same spot, watching Winry intently. It was a very silly notion for her to entertain, but she was fairly sure that it's numerous eyes would rest on her for long periods of her time spent in the attic. Granted, that never stopped her from coming upstairs because she usually didn't think about the spider. But whenever her eyes would roam the room, she would look at the web, see the dark colored spider, and shudder very visibly. And then, very shortly after, she would see the spider on the floor, four paces to her left and five paces towards the door. The room itself was ten long steps, not very long at all. And for that beast to be in almost the direct middle of the room unsettled Winry greatly sometimes.

Why she hadn't killed it yet was something a little beyond her. She'd tried many times and had complained to Primus more times than she'd tried killing it on her own, which was quite a few. Still, the beast remained there. Winry didn't remember a day that it hadn't been there in the past approximate year. Sometimes, she felt that the arachnid would come after her on her way out of the room until she shut the door. Once, she could have sworn she'd seen it in her hallway on the second floor in the middle of the night. But that would be a great distance for the spider to travel, just to torment her. And what was the reason behind it all? Was the spider some type of test of strength or moral? What significance did a spider that wouldn't leave her alone hold?

Maybe she could get Edward to send it to its Maker?

"Winry?"

Winry was positive she'd left her skin, she was so startled by Edward's voice. A shudder went through her. "Y-Yes?" she stuttered, trying to still her pounding heart by placing her hand lightly over it.

"What is it?" he asked her calmly.

She blinked. "What do you mean?"

"You were staring," he pointed out. "Am I that nice to look at?"

"I was thinking," she argued. But he did have a point; he was nice to look at. "You just so happened to be my focal point when I drifted into thought." There, that was a good reason. She really _hadn't_ intended to have been staring _at_ him. The last thing she remembered was glancing his way for a few prolonged moments before noticing he'd been looking at the spider. That was all.

"Sure." He looked at her a little skeptically, but was grinning insolently just the same. "What were you thinking about?" Ed asked her.

Winry shuddered again, involuntarily. "The spider you were staring at earlier," she replied with distaste.

"Oh. That's a heck of a spider," he answered with a shudder of his own. "I'm surprised you haven't sprayed it yet."

She scowled. "I've tried to kill it a few times myself. It's bitten me a couple times, but not long enough to get enough venom to do any damage. I've told Primus to get an exterminator out here, but the beast always disappears whenever it sees the truck pull up."

"I see," Edward murmured.

"And I really want that thing dead, because it always crawls out into the middle of the room and stares at me." She fixed her eyes on Edward for good measure. "And it will sit there for as long as I'm up here," she said. Then she immediately felt silly for going on about her spider paranoia.

"Does it stare at you like it's doing now?" Ed's question caught her off guard.

She looked down at the usual spot on the floor then looked back at her bodyguard. "Yes, as a matter of—" Then she broke off in a shriek when she jerked her head back over to it. She jumped out of the alcove and ran over to Edward.

Instead of the arachnid fleeing from her sudden movement, it took a few spiny-legged steps closer to them. Winry clutched Edward's shoulders with a rather tight grip as she hid behind him. She didn't care she was likely going to leave marks on his shoulders...well, his left shoulder at least. That stupid spider was out to get her! She didn't even have the peace of mind to contemplate the feeling of his metal shoulder underneath her right hand. She just cared that the spider was still looking at her intently.

She heard Edward swear under his breath. "Jeez, there's something wrong with this picture. Let go of my shoulders, Winry," he told her and took a step forward once she did so.

Winry watched him approach the spider. It shirked away from him a little, but it was no match for his stride. Or the metal foot coming down upon it. There was a very reassuring _squish_ as Edward stepped on it rather roughly. But it still didn't ease her any. There was something very foul amuck.

Then the realization of what Edward had just done came to her. He'd just squished her stalking spider with his bare foot. Never mind it was metal and likely had no feeling. He didn't even take the time to, well, find something else to kill it before setting in upon it. That caused Winry to look upon him with a new type of reverence.

"My hero," she said weakly as he looked at her.

He nodded briefly. "My pleasure. Now do you have anything for me to get the spider guts off of my foot?" he asked curtly, balancing on his right leg and holding his left leg at an angle, showing off the bottom of his foot to her.

She wrinkled her nose in disgust, but made an effort to move to the alcove without having to sit down first. Once she had the tissue box in hand, she made a great effort to keep as far away from the glob of mashed spider as she could. It took a great deal of willpower to remain upright while Edward wiped the remains of her tormentor off of his metal appendage.

"Well, now that that is--"

Winry didn't think. She reached out and grabbed Edward's shoulder, trying to keep him on his feet. She had seen him, from the corner of her eye, start to look imbalanced on his foot. Then she'd seen him teetering on his heel. And the next thing she had known, she'd found herself jumping to _his_ rescue this time. But a good lot that did. She was also unstable on her feet, not having firmly planted herself in one spot. And, even though Edward was kind of small for someone his age, he had metal limbs and they weighed quite a bit! So his weight pulled both of them down.

Would this be a rather embarrassing moment for both of them?


	7. Meeting

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of its components.****

* * *

Chapter 7: Meeting**

His cell phone was ringing. His brother was terribly mad at him. There was a mashed spider on his foot and on the floor close to him. Numerous boxes were stacked all around him that could and probably would topple over from the slightest bump. Hundreds of other things that were rather important filled his mind, but they all paled in comparison to the predicament Edward found himself in at the moment.

At any other time in his life, had circumstances been different, Edward would have found himself fortunate to have a fetching female falling into his arms. But at the moment, he couldn't exactly classify himself as anything other than confused. How had things ended up like this? Why couldn't Winry have just let him fall on his butt and then laugh at him? He wouldn't have cared much if she'd done that. But, no, the woman had insisted wordlessly that she try to help him, keep him on his feet. Hadn't she realized that, even though his actual weight without his prosthetics would have been around one hundred and forty-some pounds, his metal limbs added at least forty-five pounds to him? That was tough to keep upright. And Winry, strongly built as she may have been, was no match to keep him on his feet.

So, because of her attempt at saving him, they found themselves in their rather interesting predicament. Well, he wouldn't really call it a 'predicament,' more like a 'situation' that had a few equally interesting remedies. One of those remedies was firmly settled in the very front of his mind, causing his gaze to fall to Winry's mouth.

"This is interesting," he heard her whisper, or rather saw her lips move.

He nodded vaguely, dragging his gaze to her lovely blue eyes. "Yeah, it is," he responded, just as quietly as Winry had spoken.

"Your cell phone is ringing," she pointed out, attempting to rise.

Edward found he didn't want to let her go. His hands were on her shoulders so he clasped them around the back of her neck. "I know."

"Don't you want to answer it?" she pressed on. Edward would have wondered if she thought nothing of their situation, but he heard the uneasiness in her voice. It stung him a bit. He really didn't know why, but he just didn't want to let her go. Ignoring her slight distress, he shook his head.

"There's a—"

Before Winry could finish, the door burst open and entering was none other than Alphonse Elric. Edward immediately let go of Winry and she, just as quickly, jumped up to her feet. The eldest person in the room leaned his head back at an obscure angle to look at his brother, if a little nervously. Al looked down at him with an unreadable expression before speaking.

"What happened? I heard Winry scream. I also heard a loud crash, but I can figure out what that was." Al shot a conspicuous look at Ed before looking at Winry. Her face was pale. Ed would be in for it now, he figured. "And your cell phone is ringing," Al threw off-handedly to his brother.

Ed rolled his eyes. "Does everyone think I'm deaf?" he said, rather vexed. He was met with silence and obvious looks. "Fine, I'll answer it." He reached for his phone, swearing when he saw the number. And it wasn't a nice swear word, either. In fact, he faintly heard both his brother and Winry chastise him for his vocabulary. He was more worried about the person calling him than the wrath of the two other people in the room.

Ed cleared his throat before bringing the phone to his ear. "Hello?" he said into the mouthpiece, trying to sound confident.

"Where are you?" a stern female voice demanded. "You aren't at work, or your house. Al isn't there, either."

Ed shivered involuntarily at the anger in the woman's voice. "I'm at someone's house right now. I didn't know you were going to be in town." He tried to sound nonchalant, he really did! But there was something about the woman that set chills to him.

"I didn't tell you I was going to be in town," she pointed out. "Now where are you?"

Very quickly, Ed sat up. She hadn't asked anyone at the station where he was. Maybe there was hope left for him! "Why don't I meet you in town? There's a very nice café in Downtown Central," he spewed forth as speedily as his mouth would let him. "I'll buy you and your husband lunch."

There was a pause on the other line. "It's only ten-thirty, Edward. And my husband is at the hotel."

"A late breakfast, then," he amended.

Another pause. "What's the place?"

Ed rattled off the name of the coffee shop. "I'll meet you there in half an hour," he promised and promptly hung up.

"Who was that?" Al asked at the same time Winry said, "That was an interesting one-sided conversation."

Ed nodded, and she continued with, "So, who are you buying lunch for?" She looked slightly jealous, or at least a little put out.

Edward leaned forward and began to wipe the spider entrails from his metal foot. "Our mother," he answered quietly, suddenly sobered.

Al took a breath in surprise. Winry looked a little confused. "Mother?" she questioned, surprised. "I thought she was..."

He nodded, but Al spoke first. "She is. He meant our foster mother. She housed us while Ed was...recovering and until he found us a house. Even before the...accident...we all knew each other."

Edward stood up finally, drawing an end to that turn of conversation. He looked at Al a little hesitantly. "So..." he began.

Al shifted on his feet a little. "So," he said as well. Then he nodded, looking a little relieved.

The elder brother smiled a little and crossed his arms over his chest. "You'll stay here with Winry while I go meet her," he said, more of an order than a request.

The youngest occupant of the room nodded again. "And why not the diner? I'm sure Quintus would be thrilled to meet the woman who taught you more manners." He chuckled a little.

Edward took on a serious expression and shook his head. "No. The café is better," he said firmly. Then, much quieter so Winry wouldn't hear, he added, "That phone call...it was Quintus."

Al looked a little surprised, but recovered quickly. "All right." Then he left wordlessly, leaving Edward and Winry alone.

Ed turned to look at Winry. She was still a little pale and faintly unsettled. He sighed loudly at the floor after taking in her expression and he was sure his brother was well out of earshot. "Winry, a few minutes ago...it was just--"

"Forget about it, Edward," she said and started out of the room.

He stopped her with his right hand on her arm. "Wait, please," he said quietly. When she didn't say anything or attempt to go further out of the room, he figured the silence was his okay to go on. "I don't know how long I'll be gone, all right? Al knows a little of what to do, like shoot a gun, if anything should—"

"Why do you think something will happen?" she asked, sounding a little frustrated.

He paused. He knew she would know that he was hiding something. He only hoped she wouldn't ask him. "I just don't trust easily, Winry. But what I'm trying to tell you is not to worry," he told her quietly.

"How can I not worry when you're telling me that Al knows how to shoot a gun, if something bad should happen? Jeez, Edward." She looked away from him and down at the floor. Then she immediately looked up and out the door. Edward could only assume she'd let her gaze roam to the mashed spider. "You're such a guy."

She fled the room so quickly after that Edward didn't have time enough to register her quivering voice when she insulted him and go after her before she was already heading down the stairs. He cast a glance at the deceased spider, muttered a few not-nice words about the arachnid, and looked around. His gaze settled on the alcove and Winry's notebook. He figured she would want it, so he picked it up and gained the hallway. And when he thought about leaving the squished spider there, he felt a little uneasy despite himself. He would tell Primus that there was a spider that needed to be cleaned and then dismiss the man. With the knowledge Ed had already gathered, he was kicking himself as to why he'd let the man stay for so long. But he couldn't have very well told the man to leave last night. There would have been even more suspicion than there was already. And it was all Ed could do to stay on top of the game.

When he reached the second floor, he started down the hallway to Al's room. On his way, he passed Winry's room. The temptation was too great, so he pressed his ear against her door to listen. She was muttering about something, probably the notebook she thought was still upstairs. Edward glanced at it. What could be so important? There were only lyrics in it, right? He leafed through a couple pages and found not only finely written English and Latin songs, but journal entries, as well.

Casting guilt away like a piece of unwanted lint on his shirt, Edward pushed away from the door, notebook still in hand, and proceeded down to his brother's room. He knocked and waited for a response. When his brother bid him to enter, Edward stepped in the room with a serious expression on his face. Al was sketching some armor with an intense look of concentration that quickly changed to concern when he saw his brother's face.

"What is it?" Al asked.

Edward shook his head and shut the door with his foot. "I'm going to go meet her at the café, and I don't know how long I'll be gone," he started, ignoring the idiotic feeling of repeating himself. "I want to you keep Winry safe, should anything happen...or something." At his brother's perplexed look, he held up his hand to stop the questions. "There is a gun in my room under the mattress, fully loaded with a bullet already in the chamber."

"Edward..." Al spoke with a quiet seriousness that it almost spooked the golden haired man.

He shook his head. "Once Primus gets back, hopefully he'll be back as I'm about to leave, I'm going to tell him to clean up the spider upstairs, unless you want to do that," he suggested strongly. He knew there was something peculiar about the spider, but he hadn't noticed it until he'd looked at it before leaving. "Which I would prefer that it gets cleaned up now," he put in. "But I'm going to ask Primus to leave the premises and make sure he doesn't come back until I'm sure he's clean."

Then the surprise on Al's face was obvious. "You don't mean...?"

Ed ignored the question. "I have my phone; call me if you need me," he said pointedly, glancing at the door. "I'll see you later."

Then he reached for the door handle and pulled it open to see Winry there, looking a little suspicious. "What about Primus?" she asked, sounding a little more than mad at him.

He feigned ignorance. "What are you talking about?" he returned, shutting Al's door and stepping out into the hallway.

"You said something about Primus leaving the premises?" she pressed, repeating some of his words to jog his memory.

Edward shook his head. "Don't know what you're talking about. I have to go," he said and pushed past her. He still had her notebook so he had to be quick. When he gained his room, he set it under his pillow hurriedly. Just as he started toward his wardrobe to fetch his coat, Winry stepped into the room.

"You aren't getting away so quickly, Edward. And didn't you just have something in your hands?" she asked, shutting the door and leaning against it.

As he donned his coat, he looked at her curiously. "No," he lied. "I might have had the tissues with spider guts on them; feel free to check my trash can." He inclined his head towards the waste basket as he procured a pair of socks. He sat down on the bed and quickly began to pull them on. If he was late...

"I'll pass, thank you. You'll escape if I move," she said.

Ed gave her a wry look. "You don't want me to leave? I'm flattered, but I really do have to meet my foster mom. She'll have my head if I don't show up in—" he checked his watch between socks "—twenty-five minutes."

Winry rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to let you leave until you tell me what you said about Primus," she said stubbornly. "Now start talking."

As he reached for his boots, Edward sighed audibly for her. "I don't know what you mean, Winry," he told her. "And you will move before I have my boots on." He gave her a serious look, not feeling the least bit guilty in lying to her.

"Who are you to tell me what to do?" she demanded crossly, folding her arms over her chest. "I'm not moving."

Edward tucked the laces of his right boot around his ankle and started tying his left boot. "Oh, yes you are," he assured her. "And I have a good way to make you do so, believe me."

He saw her roll her eyes at him. "Right," she murmured, looking amused. "I'd appreciate an explanation now."

Done with his boots finally, Edward stood up. He put on his most intimidating frown and started towards her. He only stopped when he was a hands breadth away from her. Even though he had to look up at her slightly, that didn't daunt him. "Will you move?" he asked quietly. "I really need to go, Winry." She stuck out her chin stubbornly in answer, looking down her nose at him. He shook his head. "Fine."

Edward lifted his hand to her cheek, cupping the side of her face. Very slightly, his lips brushed hers, though he didn't kiss her. He took in the expression on Winry's face: the confused look, slowly changing as she realized what was happening. Ed let out a slow breath against her lips, his fingers caressing her cheek again softly. Her eyes slowly shut and Edward knew his fate was sealed in that moment. It took a lot more willpower than he should have been willing to put forth in this situation, given any other day, but Ed pulled away from his charge and began to walk off. With Winry still looking a little dazed and confused from his actions, he skillfully moved her out of the way, opened the door, and pulled her out with him. Quickly, he locked the door with the skeleton key he'd found and dropped it in his coat pocket. No sense in her looking through his stuff while he was gone. He started down the hallway, fully intending to leave Winry there, still looking a little far off, but her voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Edward Elric!" she shouted. "You can't just do that and leave!"

He turned around to give her an uninterested look. "Aren't I doing just that?" he asked in a bored manner, then started towards the stairs again. He didn't get too far before he felt something whack the back of his head. He leaned forward to pick up whatever had hit him. "A shoe?" He held it up to Winry to find she was standing behind him. He turned to look at her.

"You're a jerk," she said pointedly.

Ed paused. "Do you feel better now that you've gotten that off your chest?" he questioned, then immediately regretted his words. It took a little to keep his eyes on her face.

"No. You're rude, you're a pain to deal with, and I thought we were going to have a decent morning, talking to each other to the point that I would actually learn to deal with you. But no, you have to go into town and buy a late breakfast for someone—"

"Jealous?" he cut in, smirking.

Winry snatched the shoe from his hand and slapped him on the shoulder with it. "No!" she argued. "Never! In fact, I feel sorry for any girl you ever date! Just go!" She gave him a shove towards the stairs to enunciate that she wanted him gone.

But Edward thought differently. He grabbed her hands on his shoulders and pulled her with him. "I think you're very jealous, Winry," he said quietly, letting his face dip near hers. He let his eyes travel down to her mouth lazily like he would actually kiss her this time. Instead, when Winry seemed to be near the same condition as before, Edward smirked. "I'll be back as soon as I can." Then he began to run down the stairs. He wasn't running to hurry to his car as much as he was running away from Winry. And it wasn't that he was afraid of her wrath that he'd come close to kissing her twice that morning, within five minutes, but that he was afraid that if he saw her again, he wouldn't leave.

So when he was down in the kitchen, he scrawled a note to Primus, saying for security reasons he wanted the man gone as quickly as possible. Then Edward noticed his right hand. No glove. "I don't have time," he told himself in a frustrated manner and ran outside. His keys were already in his pocket so he was driving down the easier-to-maneuver driveway around the back of the house in less than two minutes. Well, he wasn't really driving; he was speeding down the driveway. He hit the button to open the gates well before he made it there and by the time he reached them, the wrought iron gate was just finishing its slow opening. Ed recklessly drove through them and down the long driveway with only a second thought thrown to closing them.

In record time, Edward was pulling into the little café only seconds before his guest. By the time both had parked their cars, he was rather nervous about meeting her again. But he knew once they were sitting down, the tension would dissipate. That's how it always was; he was flustered the entire way to meet her only for it to disappear at the last possible second, leaving him relaxed enough to ask about her physical condition out of interest and not habit. He didn't know why he even worried. Maybe it was the memory of her fierceness being replaced by her helping him learn to walk again, and to use his arm. Also the alchemy she'd taught him and Al. Though they rarely used it, he still prized that unusual talent and would show it off when he knew he could without getting into trouble. Plus, it looked awfully good on his police résumé, despite it being more or less unorthodox.

Ed met her at the door and held it open for her, wordlessly. She nodded curtly at him before stepping ahead of him. He requested a booth for two quietly, and then proceeded to follow the café hostess to their corner seat. It was only when they were sitting down did the tension dispel. Edward relaxed his shoulders and looked down at the menu. They two were still silent to each other as they ordered their rather pricey coffees. It was an understood silence that neither of them had to interpret. The meaning was fixed into each other's subconscious.

"Thank you," he murmured when the waitress set the coffee down in front of him a few minutes later. Edward sipped his drink slowly and looked at the woman across from him finally. She was old enough to really be his mother, but that didn't keep him from taking in her looks. She was lovely in a rough, strong sort of way, a way that not many would see from first glance. Her black hair was long and shot with gray strands, the only sign of her age, save a few discrete wrinkles. Her eyes were still hard and full of the force that had been there a few short years past. She had put on a little weight, but given that her husband was a butcher, it was allowed. _And_ she was pushing around forty-two or forty-three. So, it was all okay with her to be a little pudgy now.

When he looked at her eyes again, Ed found she was assessing him as well. "You look good, Izumi," he told her with the same admiration he had used when he was eighteen.

She nodded. "And you look like you've kept up for yourself and your brother well enough," she returned.

"You didn't demand to know where I was?" he asked with a half laugh. "When you were at the station?"

"Actually, I did but no one would answer me. I found your boss and made him tell me, though." She gave him a dangerous look. "Winry Rockbell's bodyguard?"

Ed winced. "Ah, yeah. I'm surprised you didn't drive up there," he ventured, wondering at the back of his mind if he was digging his own grave.

"I would have," she said in a way that Ed interpreted as meaning she was all seriousness, "but I can't drive for very long."

He nodded sagely, understanding perfectly. "And I bet your husband is tired from the drive up," Ed mused.

There was a long silence between them again. It wasn't an unusual happening. When Ed had been younger, recovering from the accident, he hadn't spoken much to anyone. That had left Al to do the talking for both of them, usually. So it was another understood silence, different from the first one. Many times had Ed and Izumi been left in the same room with the expectations of him being taught to walk again. But, being who he was and in his condition, he hadn't wanted to do much of anything, except wallow in his own grief. And such grief didn't bear the honor of being entertained.

He looked up at Izumi, just as she spoke in a most casual manner. "So, how is your case going?"


	8. Are You Gonna Be My Girl

**Disclaimer: Don't own FMA. Until I find a way to contact aliens, I don't think I'll have a chance to own it. Nor do I own the song "Are You Gonna Be My Girl" by Jet. It's just another play on some of the events...mainly the part about the back stair.**

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**Chapter 8: Are You Gonna Be My Girl?**

"_I don't trust the butler. At all."_

Edward's own words echoed in his mind suddenly, reminding him of his conversation with Izumi. He mulled over that understatement with a frown. Ed seriously hoped the man had left. It would make things infinitely simpler to deal with. However, if the man _had _refused to leave, Edward would have him put away a lot easier. So he was suffering mixed feelings on that subject. One of the few things Edward was sure of was that he wanted Primus gone.

"_I purposely over heard a conversation between Primus and Quintus."_

"_Who's Quintus?"_

"_Old girlfriend. We probably started dating three months after Winry's threat notes started."_

"_So you think she's in on it."_

"…_Yeah. Yeah, I do."_

The fact that his old lover was very likely one of the people behind this fiasco was a little unsettling for Edward. That opened up the possibility for all sorts of conspiracies. He started to grind his teeth a little. How would he take care of that?

"_Have you reported anything yet?"_

"_No. I've been caught up with stuff at Winry's place; security, bugging the lines, stuff like that. Besides, I would have to have more evidence to put them away. All I have now is a gut hunch and a short phone conversation that means almost nothing."_

"_Well, sending the butler out can eliminate much hope of finding out anything more."_

That was some hard truth. By telling the man to leave, Ed's chances of finding anything out to keep the case going went with the butler. At this rate, he'd have to do a lot of snooping around to even find a decent piece of evidence to connect the man with the case. The recorded phone conversation was brief and didn't have all that much information, other than Quintus and Primus knowing each other and her warning him about Edward's perceptiveness. Maybe Edward should report the man and have someone keep a watch on Primus anyway? And someone on Quintus, too. Then he would be able to rest without much worry. The only thing he would have to keep one eye open about was Winry. She would very likely come into his room in the middle of the night and try to suffocate him or something. But he could take care of her; he had a very effective notion.

"_You know what happened last time you got involved with someone you were working with."_

"_I know…"_

"_And you remember what happened to that person, too, right?"_

"_I remember…"_

"_It took you a while to recover after that one."_

"_I know!"_

"…_Be careful, Edward."_

The last time Edward had become involved with someone he was working with had been a recipe for disaster. It had only been a few months after he'd recovered from the car accident and learned to walk again with the prosthetics. He'd met a girl at the store and the very next day assigned to a beat near her house. His shift with Falman would end around eleven, and both would be tired so they would go to Rochelle's house for some coffee. That was how Edward had gotten to know her. Then one night, he'd asked her out rather nervously. And from then on, they'd been like peas in a pod whenever Edward had time to spare. Some people had considered their relationship cute, similar to a way that high school students would have dated. Others referred to it as courting, since they rarely dated by themselves.

About three months after they had officially been dating, Edward had started to become a little suspicious of her. Using the resources he had at hand, he'd had someone track her one day when she'd turned him down for lunch. That evening, it had been confirmed she'd been with another guy for lunch. Edward had demanded that he go over to her house for a while, pleading missing her sorely. He'd given her pictures that his friend had snapped and declared them over if Rochelle couldn't keep only _one_ boyfriend. Of course, she'd been furious that he hadn't trusted her. Edward had come back with a point on his lack of trust saving him from doing something stupid. While he had thought she might have picked him over the other bumbling boy she had been seeing, that comment had sent her through the roof and commanding him out of her house. Ed had gladly complied and left her with the pictures of her treachery. That had been enough for Edward, but a week later, he'd heard about a case of a girl in that area having been raped and killed. Upon further inquiry, Edward had discovered it had been none other than Rochelle and that other guy she'd chosen over Edward to be the one to be put behind bars for it.

Although he had been plenty mad at her for cheating on him, Edward had still been shaken by the news. If he had only held his tongue, been calm, and insisted they try to work things out, she might have lived. Edward had taken her death personal. He had acted indifferent on his exterior, but inside, he'd been rather stunned for many weeks.

Quintus had been the only other girlfriend after her. But their story was better left untold.

"_I killed a spider in Winry's attic earlier."_

"…_Congratulations?"_

"_I guess. It had something in it. I don't know exactly. I _suggested_ Alphonse clean it up, rather than Primus. If the old man cleaned up, he would dispose of what is quite possibly some good evidence."_

"_What do you think it is?"_

"_Maybe a camera of some sort. Something to keep an eye on Winry to make sure she wasn't trying to figure stuff out on her own. She's smart, you know. She could probably solve the case on her own if she were strong enough."_

"_I see."_

Alphonse had called a few minutes before Edward and Izumi had left the café. He'd cleaned up the spider and found the device in the crunched "arachnid." Though it couldn't be of much use anymore because of Edward's method of killing it, it had definitely been a camera before. But _why_ there had been a _camera_ in a spider in Winry's attic was slightly beyond either of them, still. Edward would have to think on that one for a while.

"_Are you going to tell your boss? That…Roy Mustang person?"_

"…_I might. I should. I think I will. On the way home."_

"_What are you going to tell him?"_

"…_I don't know. Something. I'll think of it on the way to the station."_

Edward had stopped at the police station on his way home. Even though it was lunchtime by then, Mustang would still be working. That man had an obsession for his work, it seemed. He was always there. But anyway, Ed had burst into the station, looking like he was the man, and waltzed right into Roy Mustang's office. Then he'd proceeded to tell the man and his female shadow of his suspicions and the phone conversation. He'd promised to have a tape sent in by a messenger of some sort as soon as he could make a copy of it. Then he'd told about Alphonse's discovery in the mashed spider. When Mustang had asked about that situation, Edward had stammered a bit, but recovered quickly. But recovering quickly was never quickly enough with his boss. Mustang could smell a rat if he wanted, and whenever it came to affairs of Edward's or the inner workings of the police station, that man was all ears.

Ed could only guess that he would be getting some phone calls and comments from people at work. That would be fun to deal with.

"_What other leads do you have?"_

"_None. Just what I told you earlier."_

Izumi was often Edward's counselor for work when the woman was in town. She was fairly knowledgeable about many things, and 'people watching' wasn't the least of them. So she could help him assess whomever he might be working with or for, or whomever he was following or tracking. She was handy. But when it came to evidence, she would have had to be there at the scene to know anything more than what Edward told her.

"_I'll be in town for a few more days, Edward. I'm staying at that hotel in Midtown Central, the one with the round rooms. Be sure to pay me a visit, with Alphonse, too. Maybe even your Winry Rockbell."_

"…_Sure thing, Izumi. We'll see about Winry. I might just find her a babysitter or something. But then who would want to spend the entire day with her?"_

"_She's one of the stuck-up famous people?"_

"_No, not at all. She's just opinionated. I can't blame her, though."_

"_Living with you, who wouldn't be?"_

Edward laughed to himself a little, letting up the pressure on his poor teeth. He was almost home. He imagined she would be boiling, looking for her notebook and from the way he'd left her. The last he knew of her, she'd been standing in the second floor hallway, dazed and astounded. He figured she had tried to unlock his door with hairpins and such. He'd made sure that the lock was unable to be picked. The only person who could get into his room was Edward.

But, Al was very skilled at lock picking. Winry's wrath was enough that she could perhaps convince him to unlock the door. Or at least try to unlock it. If Al had any loyalty to Edward at all, but he was intimidated enough by Winry, the young man would fiddle with the lock for a while and then call it quits, just to appease Winry and to keep his life. So the possibility that Al accidentally picked the lock and Winry got in did not bode well. In fact, it worried Edward as he parked the car in front of her house. Hopefully she had fumed in the kitchen the entire time, only plotting Edward's death instead of taking measures to execute it. With a frustrated sigh, He turned the door handle and leaned against the door to open it. However, the door did not go very far before the chain caught it. The sudden stop jolted Edward so badly; he would have fallen forward if there hadn't been a very sturdy piece of wood in front of him.

With a renewed ire, he opened his mouth to yell for someone but found he didn't have to. Winry was standing inches from the door.

"Oh, good. Winry, can you—" Then Ed stopped talking, mid-sentence. The look on her face was murderous. "Winry?"

"You're a jerk," she said easily before trying to shove the door shut.

But again, Edward had the weight advantage—and a limb or two that didn't have any feeling. So he set his foot between the door and threshold and leaned his entire weight against the barrier. He heard Winry straining to shut the door, but he was no match.

"What did I do?" he asked incredulously.

"You don't remember?" Winry managed, gaining an inch. "This morning?"

He remembered perfectly. "Winry, just let me in!" he ordered, glaring at her. "It's cold! And it's going to rain soon!"

"No! You—you...did whatever you call what you did and didn't even tell me why!" she shouted at him, sounding slightly embarrassed.

"You were in my way! How else did you expect me to move you, non-violently?" He rolled his eyes at her.

"_And_ you stole my notebook!" she accused, losing that inch.

Ed smirked. "I don't know what you're talking about, Winry," he lied, finding himself with a sudden lack of patience.

"Liar! Why did you tell Primus to leave?" she wanted to know.

Finally fed up with her questions and attempted method to keep him out, Edward removed his foot. "I don't have time for this," he told her and moved away from the door.

He heard her loud, "Oof!" as she hit the door with more force than she could have anticipated. Then he saw her look out the window at him victoriously. With a wry grin, he held up his right hand and made the shape of an 'L' on his forehead. "Loser," he said aloud. She glared at him and made her own sign back at him that was rather impolite. Then, while she wallowed in her glory of what she thought was her victory, Ed started toward the porch at the side of the house. He was only a few feet away when he heard Winry swear very loudly. Obviously, she'd figured out what he was planning. Faintly, he could hear her running through the house, making her way towards the porch but stopping at all the doors on the way to make sure they were all locked. Ed knew they were; he'd locked them himself.

When he reached the porch, he saw her stepping into the kitchen. If he wanted in without breaking the door, he'd have to hurry. So Edward broke into a dead sprint, hopped the railing when he came to it, and dodged the few chairs on the porch. He reached the door first, but it took him a moment to find the handle with his right hand; no feeling could be a bad thing sometimes. So by the time he'd found the handle, he heard the lock clicking. Then he heard Winry slide the deadbolt home and latch the chain. She opened up the curtains to look at him. Then she held up her right hand in the shape of an 'L' and put it to her forehead. "Loser," he heard her say to him.

She would pay for making him eat his own words.

In the meantime, Edward glared at her. "I could break down this door!" he shouted.

She nodded cheerfully. "I'm sure you could! It's mighty cold out there! Good thing you have a jacket! I think I'll go ask Primus to make a fire and write in my notebook! Oh, wait a second! Primus isn't here, and my notebook has been stolen!" She shut the curtains abruptly and he heard her storm away in her house shoes.

Ed pondered the loyalty of his brother, and where the man was at the moment. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and looked at the screen; low battery. Maybe he could squeeze in _one_ call…

He dialed the numbers for Al's cell phone and hit the talk button, but by the time it was finished connecting, the battery decided it had had enough of being used and promptly shut off, without ceremony. Edward swore to himself and threw his cell phone at the cushioned porch swing as he heard distant thunder. Did he deserve all this? No. He was trying to keep Winry safe! And this was how he was repaid: being locked outside in less than forty-degree weather, a leather jacket, and a dead cell phone.

Oh, and the possibility of rain. Freezing rain. Life was just peachy.

He was in for a long afternoon.

---------------------

Edward suddenly sat up, his fingers of his left hand absently on his right shoulder. He looked in the kitchen and saw someone there. He squinted his eyes and found it was Al. He was saved! Al would open the door! Edward jumped up and rushed to the door. He started banging his fists on the door and yelling.

"Alphonse! Open the door! It's freezing out here! Al! Alphonse!" No response.

"Al! Open this door right now! My arm and leg are going to freeze over! Alphonse!" Still no response.

Edward watched as his brother obviously ignored him to the point of pretending to read the newspaper two inches from his face while waiting for something in the microwave. Once that was done, Al picked up his plate and held it to the side of his face, clearly giving away what was happening. As the younger man left the room, Ed swore loudly. He hoped it was loudly enough that it would carry up to Winry's room and ruin whatever concentration she had going on in her blond head.

She had intimidated his brother enough to ignore him! Just what had her threat been? Surely nothing worse than Edward would do to Al! If anything, Al should have intimidated _her_ enough to let Ed in!

The things Ed would to do repay Winry.

------------------------

It was a great while later, at least three and a half hours, when Edward turned his head with a miserable moan. It was raining and sleeting. He had discovered that there was a hole in the porch roof just above the porch swing. It had been dripping rainwater and bits of ice onto the swing just beside Edward's head in the groove where the seat began. However, Edward had been too cold to move once it had started raining. And now, he was wondering if he would at least be given something to sleep with in a few hours, something warm. A blanket would be nice, but he doubted he would be getting one.

Seriously, Winry was overreacting! Edward had probably caught pneumonia or something already! He'd been outside for about six hours! It was already twilight, and the temperature had dropped considerably. He wouldn't be surprised if snow started falling at any given moment. Her method of revenge would probably leave him dead. And since Alphonse wasn't a cop and had no real clue what to do should someone try to kill Winry, her revenge could quite possibly leave her dead too.

He had decided that reading her journal would be sufficient punishment for her. That and rubbing in her face all of the dirty things she'd written about Ed. Maybe she would be embarrassed enough to beg for forgiveness and be the most agreeable female ever to walk the planet. At least until things were over and done with.

Well, maybe that was indulging his fantasy a little too much. He would at least appreciate a heartfelt apology and some special treatment while he tried not to die.

"Are you just going to lay there and ignore me or do you want to come inside?" Ed suddenly heard a voice ask him.

He _would_ have sat up immediately, but he was too cold and stiff to do so. "You're in a lot of trouble, once I can move," he promised Winry.

"You can't move?" She sounded a little shocked, but covered it well.

To enunciate his pointed, Edward tried to shake his head. "Barely. And you know whose fault it is? Yours, princess. Now you better figure out a way to get me inside before I catch_ double_ pneumonia!" he growled at her.

"O-Okay." Was she panicking? From the way her voice had quivered, it sure sounded like it.

In a few short seconds, Edward saw Winry kneeling beside him. She put her hand on his shoulder, but immediately drew it back like she'd been burned. Or frozen. Her startled expression was enough to tell Edward what had happened.

"Your arm…"

"Is frozen, thanks to you. Now just put your hand behind my back and help me sit up." He knew his tone was harsh, but he was _very_ upset with her! She would probably yell at him if he ever did the same thing to her. But he never planned to, since it was just cruel to leave _anyone_ out in the cold for six hours.

However, Edward found himself being helped up by the very person who had locked him outside. And, in a few short minutes, he was limping into the library and sitting in front of the fireplace. He was about to point out the lack of fire when he heard an electronic beep and suddenly saw the fire blaze before him.

"Wow," he muttered. " Now, if I could actually feel anything, I might—"

"I'm sorry, okay?" Winry suddenly spat out. "You can stop rubbing it in now. Leaving you out there so long was stupid, and I shouldn't have done it. Now you can shut up and we'll all be happy." She roughly jerked a chair over close to his and threw herself down into it. Edward looked at her and saw she was staring absently into the fire.

Maybe _he_ had overdone it a little, too, with all of his griping and complaining. He was even thinking about apologizing to her. But then another thought struck him. "Where's Al? I didn't see him downstairs."

She squirmed. She actually _squirmed_ under his gaze. "He, ah…he went into town…" she mumbled.

"_What_!" Edward surprised himself and jumped up from the chair, knocking the blankets that Winry had put on him to the ground. "He did _what_? When?"

"About an hour and a half ago?" she said very quietly.

Edward fumed. He glared at her with a murderous look his foster mother would have been proud to claim she had instilled in him. Ed was _not_ a happy camper. He was half frozen with the probability of some fatal sickness from being outside for so long without proper protection from the cold. And now, he was being told that the woman that had locked him outside had been left alone for an hour and a half without supervision! Edward was going to be sick with more than just a cold-induced illness. So he sat back down in his chair again and continued glaring at her.

"He said he had something to do!" she pleaded. "He had college classes or something like that."

Edward continued glaring. "So he left you alone, in a huge three-story mansion, _without_ _any_ supervision?" he ground out.

"I'm not twelve, you know. I _can_ take care of myself, believe it or not, Edward," she returned crossly.

"Could you protect yourself from someone trying to _kill_ you, Winry?" He was overdoing it again, but he didn't care. He wanted her to know just how _stupid_ it had been to do something like she had this evening.

She squirmed again. "You were still here."

"Frozen to your porch swing," he reminded her. "Just—" He took a deep breath. "Just…just drop the subject. We're dropping the subject before I'm tempted to strangle you." He already was, but he wasn't going to let her know that. So instead, he clutched his metal hand with his left hand tightly.

Then a silence came. It was an uncomfortable silence; very much unlike the one Edward had shared with his foster mother. Edward took his turn to squirm subtly. He glanced over at Winry to see her looking rather upset. But she wasn't crying, which was all that mattered. He could deal with upset women, just not crying women. Tears were a _big_ no-no with him. Maybe he could turn the tide rather drastically and start to flatter her, and charm her into being happy again. It was worth a try.

"I'm thirsty," he told her, pointedly leaving out the fact that he'd been left outside for six hours with only drops of rainwater to drink. "Let's go downstairs to get a drink."

Winry looked at him, a little surprised. "O-Okay," she murmured.

Edward hopped over to her and held out his hand to her. That added to her astonishment, but she took his hand. When she tried to pull away from him, Ed merely held onto her hand tight enough to keep their fingers laced together. They were both silent as they went down the winding staircase. Edward knew he was silent because he was suffering from an insanely strong feeling of déjà vu. He had no clue why Winry was silent. At least she wasn't sobbing. For that he was very grateful.

When they reached the kitchen, there came the awkward silence again. Winry tried to pull her hand away again and Ed let her. The heady feeling between his ears was almost overwhelming. They looked around, studiously avoiding each other's gaze.

"Um…what did you want?" Winry asked finally.

Edward started. "What?"

"To drink," she clarified.

"Oh. Well…I can make some coffee," he told her and started towards where the coffee supplies were kept.

Winry put herself in front of him suddenly. "No, I'll…make it." Her voiced trailed off to a whisper when she realized what she had done.

Edward took a little step back to regain his balance. Then he looked down at Winry to see the same look of astonishment on her face as before, when he'd grabbed her hand. Then Edward surprised himself. He took her hand gently and brought her closer to him slowly. They were still both silent when he drew her face closer.

"It this always how it's going to be?" Winry whispered, "when we're mad at each other?"

He paused a breath from her mouth. "If you want it to be," he told her. He didn't give her a chance to respond before he kissed her very, very softly.


	9. Talking

**Disclaimer: Do not own FMA.**

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**Chapter 9: Talking**

Winry was slightly shocked. Only a moment before, she'd been planning to make coffee for Ed. And now she was in his arms. Not only that, her lips were beneath his. She didn't know if it was convenient or not. She didn't really want to stand there and find out. What she wanted to do was just stand there, without a thought in her head. But, being who she was, she was ever thinking and she just so happened to be analyzing the reason why she was being kissed by such a handsome young man her age that didn't have a girlfriend she knew about and who was supposed to be keeping her safe. What better way to keep her safe than to have her in arm's reach at all times? That seemed like what he had been doing since she'd let him inside. Had that been a mistake?

At this point in time, the only mistake she'd made so far was not being able to stop thinking, because Edward was pulling away from her, laughing.

"What?" she demanded, putting her hands on her hips.

"Would you _stop_ thinking for like…five minutes? It's impossible to make you just stay where you're supposed to when your mind is off on some other subject. You keep turning your head like you do when you're writing lyrics." He smirked at her, pulling her closer again.

Had he been watching her? That was the only reason why he'd know that she looked around absently when thinking. That deserved some further speculation. But in the meantime, she had an argument to settle. "It isn't my fault that you just kissed me so suddenly," she returned hotly. "If you at least gave me a little warning, I'd know when to focus on—"

And without such warning she'd only begun her lecture on, Edward kissed her again, full on the mouth. She would have yelled at him more if she'd only possessed the clarity of mind to do such. But it seemed a little beyond her to do that. Otherwise, he'd be halfway to being deaf.

"Winry," Ed suddenly murmured against her mouth. "Stop thinking."

She had the insane desire to laugh suddenly, and she wasn't one do deny herself those feelings. So she laughed against him and let herself go. She found her arms were around his neck suddenly and she felt rather warm like she was drunk off too much wine of some sort. It was a strange feeling, strange but welcome. And welcome it she did as her mind cleared of any thoughts but the diminutively challenged man holding her.

Neither of them knew how much time had passed before they heard a slightly embarrassed, "Oh. Well…I…" from the doorway. The two immediately pulled apart from each other, both looking a little more than dazed. "Sorry for interrupting," Al mumbled, taking a few steps away.

"Nonsense," Edward said first. In some part of her, Winry found herself thrilled at the hoarseness in his voice. It made her smirk. "We were just about to make coffee. Weren't we, Winry?" He looked at her.

She immediately tried to wipe away her grin but found herself unable to. "Right. I'll start on that now," she said, trying not to laugh at their situation. How embarrassing! "Al, would you like some coffee?" Being caught kissing in the kitchen by her bodyguard's brother. That would be something to laugh about in the future.

On Winry's way past Edward, she trailed her fingers along his metal arm. Though he couldn't feel it physically, she knew he'd realize what she was doing. And that brought an insolent grin to her face. She didn't know where this giddy feeling was coming from, but she figured it would last only a small amount of time before she and Edward were in a yelling contest again over something stupid. Then, she'd be feeling nothing but anger at him for about five minutes before he drew her into his arms like he'd done twice that day and—

"Winry!"

Edward's voice brought her out of her thoughts. She turned to look at him, an expression that could only be described as 'mushy' on her face. He looked at her funnily for a moment. "Yes?" she asked dreamily.

"Are you okay?" he asked her.

"No." She smiled still and shook her head before continuing the coffee. Oh, fall, when a young lass's fancy turned to romance. It widened the smile on her face considerably.

-------------------

Edward sighed very loudly to himself. The door to his room was locked, for good reason. Was it so much that he wanted to work and eat his dinner in peace? Taking advantage of the amazing flexibility he had in his right leg and sitting half-Indian style, leaning back on his hands. He was looking fixedly at the papers spread out in front of him. Actually, he was staring at a notebook with the intent that a starving man might stare at a piece of bread inches away from his fingers when he could move no more. That's how he felt right now.

Those kisses earlier with Winry? Yeah. Big mistake. _Big_ mistake. Edward found himself wanting more out of his job than just the satisfaction of keeping someone alive. Which, that was nice and all. But it had been about six months since his last girlfriend, Quintus, and the male species were often reminded of their low tolerance for lack of feminine relations. Al had told him numerous times that the relationship had been very pathetic since they'd "needed" each other so much during that time. Edward gagged at the memory and reached for the trashcan.

Actually, he was gagging and spitting up some substance he didn't want to know more about because he was rather sick with something now, more than just a cold. Winry had made dinner for him especially. He knew that because she hadn't used _any_ dairy products. He would know. Ed had watched her like a hawk, halfway talking to his brother about the 'spider' entrails. Why he was sick was beyond anyone. The only things Edward had eaten today were some orange juice, coffee, and a pastry thing at the café with Izumi. Then, he'd come home only to be locked outside. Yeah, he knew he could have slammed the door in, but he didn't want to have to use his alchemy or call a repairman. Once he'd been inside and interrupted—Edward considered that divine intervention now—Winry had made dinner of spaghetti and garlic bread, all non-dairy. Maybe some bad garlic or something?

Or those spider entrails tidings…that was enough to make someone with a stronger constitution sick, even. It _had_ been a camera with a strange insignia on it…the only way he could have described it was a snake eating itself with a six-pointed star in the middle. It was unlike any symbol Edward had seen before…except for once. When he had been dating Quintus, there had been a lot about the older woman Ed hadn't known. He hadn't really cared to find out because she was so uptight about her past. Edward understood and respected her closed-mouth habits. He was the same way. But one thing he _had_ asked her about was the tattoo on the middle of her chest, just below her neck. It had been the same symbol as the camera. She hadn't said much about it except it was her family's crest mark. He'd understood that. Edward and Alphonse had known Izumi before the incident so they'd been learning alchemy before all of the mess. They'd inherited her family crest since she had no children of her own. It was a cross with a snake wrapped around it. And that robe Ed had, the one full of holes, his actual mother had commissioned it to be customized with the seal on the back.

But the camera would probably be believable if Edward wasn't suffering from a fever and the chills. Winry and Al had told him it was just the flu, but Ed doubted for some reason. He just didn't see the probability of it. Also because he didn't want to think that he'd potentially spread it to Winry by kissing her earlier.

Which brought his mind back _all_ the way to where it had started. He was staring at _her_ notebook. He hadn't opened it and only touched it to put it on the bed. That, he'd discovered, had been a very, _very_ unwise decision. He'd been tempted to read it earlier. Now that it was within reaching distance, the temptation simply overwhelming. It was killing him _not_ to read it. Though Ed knew that it would probably quite literally kill him to read it anyway, if Winry found out. Oh, and the fact that he was curious about what she thought of him? Learning the answer to that would probably kill him, as well.

So, with his mind made up, he reached out and took the notebook into his hands. It figuratively weighed a ton! Ed figured it was the notebook's appeal that weighed so much. And that was enough to throw any other doubt out of his mind. He stepped off the bed and started toward the door to his room. Fumbling with the key, he racked his brain for any reason _why_ he would have it. Maybe if he went up the stairs as quietly as he could and then ran down them like the hounds of Hades were after him then presented it to Winry would be convincing. Because, hadn't he sworn he had no idea what she was talking about earlier? Exactly. So, he could try his luck on that idea.

And as Edward opened the door, his idea came crashing down before him in a great ball of failed flame. Standing in front of him, her hand raised to knock on the door, was none other than Winry. And Edward had her notebook in his hands, able for everyone to see. And just _how_ was he supposed to manage _this_? Edward didn't pray a lot, but he did now with more fervor than he had ever used in his past. He was quite sure Winry would kill him.

Then a stroke of pure genius hit him. "Here," he said, shoving the pad of paper at her. Then he went to slam the door in her face, but she was reacting as quickly as he because she put her hand out to keep the door open.

"Wait a second," she said firmly.

"Haven't got the time," he told her easily and leaned his entire weight against the door.

"Edward!" She started beating her fists on the door as he locked the barrier keeping him alive. "This isn't fair! You are so mean!"

He nodded to himself and started towards his personal bathroom, hearing her yells still from the other side of the door.

------------------

Winry Rockbell had a stifling amount of patience if you caught her in a good mood. That was usually the case. But when she lost her temper, which contradicted her patience in being unusually short, you had better be ready to cover your ears and run for a place to hide. She was rather violent, she'd been told, when she was mad. And she wouldn't be the last to admit it was true. She could recall many times she'd thrown a wrench or something at her family members because they'd frustrated her. Of course, she'd always aimed to miss and if they had jumped into her line of fire, it had been their fault. They all believed her quite thoroughly from her meticulous explanation of just _where_ the wrench would have landed.

Well, if she'd had at least some type of tool now, Winry would have found a way into Edward's room. She had been yelling at him for at least ten minutes before realizing that he wasn't there. The steam coming from under the door had alerted her to just exactly what he was doing. She felt horribly insulted. It was tempting to put milk in something and see what happened.

But he wasn't really lactose intolerant. She'd seen him, on many occasions, eat or drink something with milk in it and be perfectly fine. He just didn't like milk. So maybe that wasn't the best way to obtain more revenge on him. Then what would be?

Currently, Winry was sitting on the floor beside his doorway. He'd have to come out eventually. For what and when it would be, she had no clue, but it would be sometime. She'd set up camp if she had to. In fact, that was a great idea…

She started to stand up to retrieve blankets and a pillow, but a noise stopped her. It was from further down the hall in Al's room. Curious, Winry crept towards his room and listened intently. He was talking on his cell phone, so it must have been his phone ringing she'd heard at first. She strained to hear him.

"What? Why are you—Oh. Okay." There was a pause. "No, I think she's in her room. Why do you—" Another pause. Winry felt her ears beginning to burn. "No, last I checked she was sitting outside your door, but I heard her walking around earlier, so she might have gone to her room. No. Why do you care?" Another long pause, like Al was being yelled at. "Edward…. Fine, I'll go check. Hold—Hold on a second."

Winry felt like she needed to hide, so she ran over to the stairs, which were rather close by now, and hid behind the wall. She peeked over the corner when she heard Al's door open. He poked his head out and looked both ways before stepping into the hallway. She held her breath when he went to her room and knocked three times. _Please God_, she thought, _let him think I'm asleep!_ She checked her watch and saw it was kind of late, so maybe it would be plausible.

It seemed like hours before Alphonse went back to his room. Only a few minutes later did Edward step out into the hallway, clad only in a pair of pajama pants and socks. Winry made a double take and shivered, but not from the cold. The sight of Edward…without his shirt on…oh, man. A very, very wry grin took its place on her mouth and she didn't even keep herself from staring. She did, however, make a very conscious effort to keep from drooling and staying hidden. Because if he found her, that would be quite a fun situation to talk her way out of.

When he started towards the stairs to go down, Winry crouched in the shadows, praying that he wouldn't find her. It seemed like forever as he descended the stairs. Every creak in them was amplified to her and felt like an eternity of torture on her ears. She watched him go down slowly, as if he was trying not to make too much noise. When he was finally out of sight, Winry stood up.

And came almost nose to nose with Alphonse Elric.

She cleared her throat innocently and said the first thing that came to mind. "I was upstairs."

"Then why were you hiding?" he asked her.

Good question. "I…didn't want him to see me," she tried. Al looked unconvinced. "Come on, he doesn't have a shirt on! I don't think he'd want me to see him walking around like that!" She clenched her fists at her side then realized she still had her notebook. Had he read it?

"Let's go to the library; we need to talk."

Without given a chance to reply, Winry was being dragged off towards the library by her elbow, gently but still with the urgency Al had. Before she knew it, she was sitting before the fire in Edward's favorite room, staring at Al. Just a few weeks ago, he had been bumbling and stuttering in front of her. Now, he ordered her around like a part of the family, not giving a second thought to her star power. It was tempting to smile at the notion, but the look the man was giving her was enough to keep it at bay.

"About earlier," he began. Oh, Lord, the cavalry had come. "When you were kissing my brother."

"He was kissing me," she interjected, raising her finger. He scowled at her. "Oh, sorry." She sank back down into her chair.

Al cleared his throat. "Anyway. You probably already realized that my brother had a relationship with Quintus, from the diner." There was a pause. "And you already know about his…"

"Uniqueness?" she supplied when he trailed off.

"I was going to say interesting situation, but unique works, too, because if my brother isn't unique, he's nothing." Another pause Winry found rather uncomfortable.

"Yes?" she pressed when it seemed like Al had thought better of his reason for talking.

He shook his head, bringing himself back. "I don't know the entire ordeal of what happened three years ago. And I'm not going to tell you the few things I _do_ know. Those, you need to hear from him. But one thing I will tell you is that Edward's been through a lot. And he may not seem like it, but he can be hurt easily. He doesn't trust people without a lot of difficulty, since his trust has been abused in the past." He paused. "Yeah, he sounds like one of those people everyone feels sorry for because he had a bad home life.

"But he didn't," Al said, looking into the fire. "My brother and I grew up just fine. Even though our father left when we were young, our mother took the best care for us she could until…"

"Until?"

"Nothing. Then Izumi took us in, and she cared for us as her own. So yeah, we've had it tough growing up for a while, but that hasn't kept us from being the best we could be. Ed's rough around the edges, and it'll take a lot to smooth him out. I don't think that'll ever happen, really." Then Al blushed, like he just realized he'd gotten carried away. "Anyway, what I'm getting at is…have a care with my brother, all right? I know he really likes you. He's just stubborn and doesn't like to admit how he feels a lot. But when he does actually say something about how he feels, he means it. So…just be careful and look at what you're getting yourself into, all right?" Al looked at her seriously before leaving. He didn't wait for an answer again.

Winry sat back all the way in her chair and stared into the fire. So Al was worried about his brother. She supposed he had a right to be, if what he'd said was true. Maybe she should spend some time getting to know Edward better than just the now. Hearing Al's mini-lecture made her want to know Ed's past. The few things she'd found out from Al just now, and the even fewer facts she'd heard from the horse's mouth were intriguing. She wanted to know how he'd gotten his metal limbs. Not many people had metal prosthetics.

Winry sighed suddenly. Ed probably wouldn't tell her. It would likely take a hot iron poker and much more to pry it out of him. She knew he was tightlipped, and from the few experiences she'd had, it was enough to let her know that he would never talk unless he wanted to. But how would she get him to want to talk? Was she supposed to? Or was she supposed to wait for him to want to tell her? It was confusing.

But another thing Al said caught her. Ed _liked_ her? He didn't think she was some stuck up, famous person like half of the other people she met did? Al liked her because he'd been star struck at first and found out a lot about her in one day. But not a lot of people took the time to get to know her. It made Winry kind of sad to think about that. But why would he like her, honestly? Sure, she was the pristine vision of what a guy wanted in a girl from the exterior. She had the long blond hair and icy blue eyes. She didn't need to rely on a man to tell her what a measuring tape could about her figure. And sure, she wasn't the skinniest piece of chopstick around, but she was well proportioned, and that was what counted if one looked skin deep. And if Edward only liked how she looked, he would have made a move a _long_ time ago. But he didn't seem that shallow, fortunately.

Winry didn't spend a lot of time assessing her own personality, but she figured herself a pretty decent woman with an even temperament. Okay, maybe "even" was pushing it a little. But she knew she was nice when she wanted to be. Could Ed really like her for that? Or was it just their situation that brought on these feelings?

She shrugged and sighed again. So many thoughts, and so little time to digest them. Perhaps there were a few sleepless nights in which to write her songs now, to filter her feelings.

"Hey."

Winry started so badly, she almost fell out of her chair. She put her hand over her heart and took a very deep breath before looking up at Edward. "You scared me," she told him.

He smirked a little. "I realized that." Ed leaned against the door frame and looked at her.

That made her a little uncomfortable, but she tried to ignore it. "So," she murmured. She chewed her lip nervously, wondering how she was to go about the thoughts in her head.

"About earlier," she began as Edward said, "Hey, listen." They both stopped after their short phrases, blushing. "Go ahead," Winry said, smiling slightly.

"No, you," he insisted.

Winry nodded. "About earlier…sorry. I was being kind of…well, I can't think of a polite word to put how I was acting, but I'm sorry." He remained in the doorway through her apology, and Winry wished he'd come sit down. It also made her wonder what he'd been going to say.

And as if he could read her mind, Edward came and sat down in the chair Alphonse had recently vacated. "Listen," Ed mumbled, leaning forward and clasping his hands together. "Ah, I didn't read anything in your notebook. I shouldn't have taken it this morning." He paused and sat back. "It's just, you'd left it upstairs, and I didn't think that you'd want to go back up again after, you know." Ed looked around, not wanting to bring back too many memories of that morning. "So, I grabbed it and curiosity got the better of me, so I leafed through and saw your journal entries. I figured I'd scan it to see if you'd left anything out the other day, but…that'd be an invasion of your privacy."

"And living with me isn't?" she asked and before she could stop them, the harsh sounding words were out of her mouth. Winry immediately sat back and tried to pull her foot out of her mouth with grace.

He chuckled a little. "There's that. But that's necessary. I doubt you'd want to live in my house for an indeterminate amount of time. Then I have nosy neighbors. You have…plant life."

"The grape vine," she reminded.

A startled expression came over his face. "You don't have any, do you? Grape vines," he clarified.

"No. I don't live in Italia," she smiled. "Anyway, apology accepted."

"Wha—"

"Just next time, return my book with a little more grace than shoving it at me then leaving me yelling for ten minutes while you're in the shower." She grinned now.

Edward looked a little guilty, but smirked all the same. "You would have killed me, then," he pointed out, reaching back and running his fingers through his hair.

"Your hair is down," she pointed out suddenly. "I just noticed that." Then another blush crept over her cheeks.

He nodded. "I'm waiting for it to dry before I braid it," he told her.

A thought struck her. Most guys would have commented on the fact that it'd taken her a good few minutes to realize his hair wasn't braided, but Edward didn't. True, his hair was blond as well, but didn't it mean something that he hadn't said anything smart like that? It made her wonder.

"—would be kinda girly, huh?"

She zoned in two sentences too late. "What?" Winry shook her head. "Sorry, I kind of…"

He laughed at her. The sound made her shiver with some unknown feeling. "That's all right. I was just saying that if I braided my hair while it was wet—I let my hair out sometimes during the day—it'd be crimped. And that would be kinda girly. A twenty-one year old man with crimped hair." A dry smirk crossed his features.

"I've never seen you with your hair down," she commented. "Well, once, but that was the day we met. You were just putting it back up when I came in." Then the thought crossed her mind if blushing was going to be a recurring occasion for her around Edward, because her cheeks were coloring for the third time that night.

"Yeah. Well, you're usually in the kitchen or someplace while I'm here. I take my hair out sometimes to keep from getting a headache later." He pulled his hair back like he was going to put it in a ponytail then let it fall back on his shoulders.

"How old were you when you started to grow your hair out?" she asked softly, rested her elbow on the chair arm and placing her chin in her palm. She gazed at him admiringly and not so surprisingly found it easy to conjure the appreciation.

He smiled and leaned his head back. "Eighteen, after these." He tapped his finger on his metal arm. Winry realized he'd put on a sleeveless shirt, but wasn't going to comment on that.

"Oh." Maybe she should avoid the topic, but found herself asking, "Why?"

A startled look came over his face again, but Ed recovered quickly. "I don't know. I guess at first, I was too angry to get it cut for the first few months after. Then, when things finally calmed down a while after, it was to my shoulders and I kinda liked it." He shrugged. "I guess, in a cheesy sort of reference, you could say it was a new beginning or something."

Winry smiled. "How short was it at first?"

He thought. "A little bit longer than Al's. Probably around this length." Ed put his hand on his hair to show it'd been around his ears before.

She nodded. "You've never wanted to cut it again?" she asked softly, fingering her own locks.

"No," Ed responded quickly. "I'm too attached to my hair." Just to prove it, and to lighten the suddenly warm mood, he tugged on a bit of his hair. "And since no one has ever questioned me on it, I figured why not keep it long? How often can you see a straight guy with hair long enough to reach his shoulder blades?" He laughed a little.

Winry laughed too, but it turned into a yawn. And as she was yawning, the grandfather clock in the back of the library chimed for midnight. "Oh," she said when it finished chiming. "It's pretty late."

He nodded and stood up. "And I have a few things I need to do tomorrow. Izumi wants to see Al."

"Izumi?"

"Foster mom."

"Oh, right." Winry made to stand up, but found Edward's hand being offered to her. She smiled a little sheepishly and placed her hand in his. It was a little awkward, since she was right handed and he was left-handed. But, she supposed everyone had to adjust every now and then. Faintly, Winry wondered how it would feel to touch his metal hand. It gave her a chill just thinking about it.

"Cold?" he asked, smiling at her as they went down the hall.

She smiled shyly. "A little." When they reached her door, she looked at him like she'd been shoved a present yet had no clue what do to with it. And she started poking at the first thing that came to mind. "I need to go shopping," she said suddenly. And where _that_ had come from, she had no idea, whatsoever.

"You do? For what?" Ed folded his arms across his chest and wrinkled the black shirt a little.

That was a really good question. Why was everyone asking her questions like that lately? "Umm…groceries. We're almost out of milk," she said, though there was a brand new gallon in the fridge.

"That's fine. Milk is gross." He chuckled a little. "And Al came home with eggs and bread earlier. There's plenty of toilet paper in all the bathrooms, too," he added.

Winry looked at him suspiciously. "Did you figure that I would say I needed to go somewhere?" she asked.

"Well, you've been in this house for how long? I would have been going stir crazy after two days," he told her.

"Okay, well maybe I am stir crazy." She yawned. "And tired. If we want to get to town early, we both need to be going to sleep."

"Oh, and that's that? You're automatically going now?" Ed ran his hand through his hair. Winry faintly wished she could do the like.

"Exactly," she said distractedly, watching his hair.

Edward laughed at her finally. Before she could even question what he was laughing about, he'd pulled her to him and kissed her forehead. "Go to sleep. I'll wake you up before I leave and see if you still want to go," he told her and gave her a little shove towards her door.

Winry blinked a little. "Fine." She scowled at what seemed nothing until she realized she was watching Edward's feet. She looked up at him and saw him pulling the tank top off before walking into his room. Obviously, he'd forgotten about her already. Or, she mused with a wry smile, he was being a very flirtatious male. Or something along those lines.

Whatever. She was tired. Winry went into her room, shut her door, and collapsed onto her bed. She had barely registered that it was snowing before she was off in dreamland.


	10. I Love You

**Disclaimer: Don't own FMA. Don't own the song "I Love You," by Sarah McLachlan. I do own a copy of the CD, however. **

**Author's Note: Wow! I was able to update in a few days! Yeah, it's probably early Thursday morning, but I don't care. It was along day...I havea freaking ganglean cyst on my wrist which may have to be surgically removed. Stupid doctor made us wait for a freaking hour to be seen for fifteen minutes. -grumble- But anyway! Yeah. Getting new glasses in a week. Won't be blind anymore. And so sorry this chapter is so rushed! If I wanted, this chapter could have easily spread over two chapters if I'd drawn out more. So, yeah, you can tell the parts I wrote tonight... Okay! I'll begin work ASAP on next chapter and hopefully have it done by Wednesday. Oh, btw? I did some research today, but couldn't do enough to find out what I was looking for. I am just going to guess that Winry's birthday is in the early winter, so Edo is a few months older than she is. If you don't like how I have it set up, oh well. I acted on a whim; **

**Advertisements! Don't we love them? Shiruba Neko has a new story out! It is called "Brothers," and it's very good. It is a sequel to her story "Illness," so if you go read "Brothers," be sure you read "Illness" first or you _will_ be lost. Then Isis has a new story, as previously mentioned, called"Full Metal Amnesia." Then I still need to finish editing Asha's chapter for "Impossible." But go read those stories! All of Shura's, and Isis's, then Asha's "Impossible." Enjoy! **

**Chapter 10: I Love You**

It was one week later when the phone rang. What was so important about the phone call, you may wonder? Well, six days before, Edward had stopped in at the station after taking Winry shopping and put a watch on Quintus and Primus. So, all week, he had been stressing the watch. You can only imagine how many times he'd snapped and yelled at Al and Winry, and how many times Winry had shouted right back because of it.

But anyway, back to the present. Edward raced to the phone since he just had a feeling it would be for him, and would be important. Then he swore when he saw Winry talking. He looked at her pointedly.

When she noticed him, she smiled and mouthed, "It's the station," then went right on talking.

He growled and walked up to her, a determined look on his face. "Give me the phone." Each word was clipped short and the building frustration was obvious in his voice. "Now," he added when she held up her hand for a minute.

"Fine. Mr. Hughes, Edward is about to blow a gasket. Yes, I know... Thank you." She smiled and a light rose tint stained her cheeks. Edward stopped his metal foot. "Here's Ed."

He took the phone and watched her start walking away. When she started towards the stairs, he stopped her. "Wait, I won't be long. I need to talk to you," he told her. Then he brought the phone to his ear. "What do you have for me that you couldn't call my cell phone?"

"I just wanted to hear her voice," Hughes said. "But I do have news for you." There was a rustling sound like he was moving papers around.

Ed sighed and looked at Winry again. "On second thought, get me a drink. It might take a bit." She stared at him from the bar stool she'd appropriated for herself. He rolled his eyes. "Please?" he mouthed. Still, she stared. Mentally, Ed could feel her telling him to say it out loud. He stared back at her, not willing to relent. No one could make him say please. It was all up to how thirsty he was, now.

"Aha!" Hughes exclaimed loudly enough for Ed to pull the phone away. "That watch you put on your friend and Miss Rockbell's butler? I have an update on them."

Edward smiled victoriously. "Let me hear it." He cast a glance back at Winry and moved to get glass as Hughes rambled the news to him. The golden haired man continued starting at her as he pulled the juice container out of the fridge and poured his own drink. "Eight tonight?" he asked happily, though he looked a little displeased. "Let me get that address." He turned to write on the conveniently placed pad of paper on the refrigerator. "All right. Thanks, Hughes."

"So," the older man said conversationally, "you sound happy today. When's the wedding?"

Ed grinned dryly. "In your dreams, Hughes," he said and hung up promptly. Then he looked at Winry with a serious gaze. He took his juice in hand as he walked over to the bar and leaned on his elbows. He kept leaning forward until he was a breath away from her face. "What are you doing tonight?" he asked her quietly.

He could tell she was struggling to answer. "Nothing. What ever you're doing," she tried.

"Good. Dress for the town," he said and pulled away. Then he sprinted up the stairs, his juice in hand once more. Even when Winry yelled at him at the foot of the stairs, he didn't stop. He had a date to plan.

---------------------------------

Winry looked at the outfits on her bed with dismay. She had no clue how to dress for the evening. When he'd told her to "dress for the town," she hadn't known which "town" he meant. The seedy ghetto or an expensive café? She knew to expect the wild and spontaneous from Edward. But she never knew which wild and spontaneous to expect. It was confusing.

So, there she stood, contemplating what to wear. The clothes she had picked out were on her bed as the following: a short, black skirt two inches above her knees, a gray spaghetti, felt strap shirt, and a denim jacket; a black sleeveless dress with a shawl; or a black tank top that was slightly transparent near the bust, a dark green, corduroy skirt, and the denim jacket from the first outfit. And she just didn't know what to wear. It was a quarter to seven, too, and if their date had anything to do with his phone call, it would be less than an hour that they had to leave to be wherever he had to be.

Then, to add to her stress, there was a curt knock on her door. "Winry, are you ready yet?" Ed yelled from the hall.

Hah! Ready? She was standing in the middle of her room in a little less than a dressing gown, with _no_ makeup on. "No! It would help if I knew where I was going," she shouted at him.

"Just wear something," he told her and obviusly ran off because there was no response when she cursed at him.

So Winry shut her eyes, turned in three circles, and pointed. When she opned her eyes, it was at the third set of clothes. She sighed and quickly dressed. Ed knocked again when she was applying makeup. She swore at him once more rather foully. Then as she was playing with her hair, she allowed herself to wonder at their evening. Did it mean anything? Or did he just want her with him while he was at work so he wouldn't get bored? Did she want the night to mean something? Did she care? Did it matter to her?

So many questions, so little time.

And those kisses... He hadn't kissed her in a week, not so surprisingly. Had they meant anything to him? Or had they just been spur of the moment things that held no consequences to him? Or did he wonder about them, too? And why was Winry just sitting there, playing with her hair, when she could be asking him in person, getting direct answers rather than guessing?

So, Winry slipped on some ankle boots and dashed out of the room. She figured he was paying for the night, but she still grabbed her purse in case he decided to go Dutch. And _then_ she hurried down the stairs, into the kitchen, and finally to the entrance hall with the full intent of grilling him with questions.

But any questions she'd had in her mind died on her tongue when she saw him.

Edward was leaning against the door a little nonchalantly, staring down at the floor. But Winry could tell he was at least a little unsettled by the way he was so distant. Otherwise, he was very, very good looking tonight. He wore his usual black boots; fitted black jeans that she suspected complimented him very well indeed in certain places; and a navy blue button-up shirt, tucked-in and left open a little past his collar bone. His hair was in the usual braid, but looked a little softer than normal. It made Winry's fingers itch to touch his golden locks.

'Very, very good' was the understatement of the year. Sexy as she'd get out? Heck yeah, that about fit him.

"You ready?" Winry heard him ask her.

She looked into his eyes and smiled. "Yeah."

"You look nice," he told her, taking her coat from the coat tree and helping her into it. Then he grabbed his own coat, slid his arms into that, and opened the door for her.

Winry was almost a little too shocked to respond, or else she would have already. Such good manners he was displaying, yet he refused to say please. "You look..." she struggled for a decent, fitting, not embarrassing word, "...handsome," she managed at last. She hurried outside so the chilly air would be an excuse for her suddenly rosy cheeks.

Ed laughed at her as he pulled the door shut and locked it. "I try, thanks." Then before Winry could say anything, he was beside her and had taken one of her hands. "Cold out tonight," he murmured and led her to his car.

"Yeah." She wanted to ask him about his phone call and if he was just dragging her along in case the waiting became too much or if she really meant something to him. Al had told her Ed really did like her, but as what? A girlfriend? A person? Or just a fling? She wouldn't stand to be a fling. She wasn't so free with herself. Guys were so confusing.

------------------------

It was seven-fifteen when Edward finished swearing at his car after parallel parking in front of a small restaurant. He was feeling a little nervous about having Winry with him for two reasons, thus the ample swearing at his poor car. Doing the right things on a first date wasn't begging his dire attention at the moment. He was there to catch Quintus and Primus scheming something against Winry. Ed didn't know if things would get dirty or not and it was a big chance that they would. It wouldn't do if Winry got caught in the middle of a fray of gunshots and lost a finger or something. He had only brought Winry with him because she seemed so stir crazy again. And he wanted to spend some time with her in an environment or two _he_ was familiar with. They'd gone shopping last week, but he'd only carried bags and given neutral comments about certain outfits. Now this... This was his area in life.

When they entered the dimly lit restaurant, Edward was greeted by name and promptly led to a corner of the floor with a good view of the entire place. It wasn't far from the kitchens, but still a good distance away so Ed could enjoy his meal in peace.

Menus were brought to them in due time. Winry was silent for once, taking in the view. Ed looked around as well, deciding to reminisce. The walls were a deep red, painted to look like marble. The ceiling looked beige, but the few, low-wattage lights hanging from the ceiling didn't reveal much. The furnishings had cushions in warm colors and dark wood framing them. It had an earthy, cozy feeling to it all. Edward found it to be a very relaxing atmosphere. Relaxing and, he smiled faintly when he looked at Winry, romantic.

"What?" she asked when she noticed his gaze.

He shook his head. "Nothing. Do you know what you want yet?" he questioned, leaning forward a little.

Winry looked at the menu again and paused. "No. What about you?"

"I'm kind of a regular, though I haven't been here in a long time. They know my preferences," Ed told her easily. "In fact, the owner should be coming out pretty soon. Believe it or not, this place is very...what's the word? Well, it brings in a lot of money, despite its size." The restaurant was in three parts: the kitchen in the very back, separated by a wall and had swinging doors; then there was the smoking section in one long half; and the non-smoking section on the other. The length of the sections was probably one hundred yards or so. It wasn't a very big restaurant, but it was roomy enough.

"Really? You know the owner?" Winry asked, suddenly excited.

Ed grinned a little. "Yeah. He's a kind of strange person; very worldly, so ignore him if he tries to hit on you," he warned.

"Oh, like you don't do the same at home," she retorted, smirking so he would hear her humor.

Before he could respond, the kitchen door swung open very elaborately and a tall man with spiky hair, brown came out. He looked a little out of place in the nice restaurant in his sleeveless, fur-trimmed vest, leather biker pants, and spiked bracelets, but that was all right. He was the owner; he was allowed to do what ever he wanted. "Edward Elric," the man exclaimed, walking over to his table. Two waiters followed with two separate dishes. There was something distant in his voice, but it didn't bother Ed.

"Mr. Secundus," he said in much the same tone as the older man. "It's been a while." He leaned back against the booth when the waiters set the dishes down before him and Winry. Ed looked at the waiters and smirked. It had been over six months since he'd been there and the waiters were still the same. The one placing Ed's food in front of him was a tall, very buff man with white hair. The other waiter with Winry's dinner had very blond hair that was slicked back to a type of point. It made him look dangerous over silly because he had an angular face with hard features. From the corner of Ed's eye, he saw a woman with very short, light hair who was moving with very fluid grace. She was serving wine to someone, but tripped as she stopped to put the bottle on the table. The bottle toppled to the side at first, but righted itself. However, the wine glasses weren't so fortunate. One tipped off the edge, but the woman quickly reached out to catch it successfully.

Winry leaned forward and hissed in a stage whisper, "We didn't order yet."

"I could tell you wanted fettuccini alfredo," Secundus told her off-handedly then returned his attentions to Edward. "Who's this?" Well, most of his attentions.

Ed grinned. "My friend, Winry Rockbell," he said. Then he saw Winry look up quickly at the use of 'friend'. He'd been meaning to have _the talk_ with her, but hadn't found a good time. He would definitely bring it up tonight, maybe on the way home.

Secundus looked at Winry. "Winry Rockbell as in the newly famous opera singer?" he asked. "How did you end up with a guy like Elric?" The man placed his hands on the table and looked between them. Automatically, Edward looked at his friend's hand and almost fell over in shock. If he hadn't had the firm hold on the table, he probably would have. There it was, the tattoo...

Winry smiled a little coldly at Edward then discarded some frost when she looked at Secundus. "Through work. And he decided to take me out to dinner tonight," she answered smoothly. Ed blessed her creativity on answering now because he didn't know if the man was in on the scheme, as well, or if it was just some freak coincidence he had that tattoo on his left hand. If there was the connection Ed was suspecting between Quintus, Primus, and the camera in the spider, then Edward could readily include Secundus in that connection now.

And that made Edward feel a little uneasy now. Was this some sort of conspiracy? First had been Quintus being his girlfriend and she was in on this. Now, one of his good friends was in on it? Winry's butler, too. Wow, what next? His boss's boss, too? Now _that_ would be funny. If that happened, then Edward would flip, and Roy would...well, Roy would report that, have the guy thrown in jail, then very promptly proceed to reach that same status. Then all would be right with the world.

"Edward, are you all right?" Winry reached over and touched his shoulder. His right shoulder.

He immediately jerked away on instinct, then gave her a slightly apologetic look. He wasn't used to touch, much less people touching his metal arm. "Yeah, why?" he said, taking a bite of his chicken parmesan.

"You were shivering," she said like she knew that there was something wrong.

He sent her a warning look then looked at Secundus. "It is a little chilly in here. What are you doing, trying to kill us?" Edward asked the man in a knowing way.

Secundus wore a similar look that held a few more secrets. "Maybe. The world wouldn't miss you, would it?" he asked. "I'll go turn the air down a little." The man had a very peculiar expression when he turned away. Edward later described it as possibly remorseful for everything that had happened.

"Edward, what is wrong?" Winry asked quietly when Secundus was gone.

Ed shrugged and took another bite of his dinner. "Just a hunch," he lied. It was only a white lie. It really was a hunch with a lot of evidence.

"Yeah, right," she rolled her eyes.

"Just eat your fettuccini alfredo or I'll make you pay," he promised, much to the contrary of his previous phrase. "And believe me, Secundus is rather steep on his prices. The cheapest item on his menu is coffee, and that's five dollars a cup." Winry looked a little shocked, but went on eating in somewhat silence.

Edward mulled while he ate. Secundus was a friend, albeit a little distant and cold for one, but still a friend. Edward would be a little grieved if the man was in line with Quintus and Primus. Oh, there was that one other person that hung with Quintus...an inhuman looking thing, but Edward had metal limbs. He wasn't really one to judge the definition of humanity. He jogged his memory to remember the man's name. Quartarius. It was Latin.

"Edward?"

"Yeah?" He looked at Winry after dragging himself from his thoughts.

"Is this a date?" she asked, looking at him questioningly.

Again, if Edward hadn't been holding onto something, he probably would have fallen over. She _had_ to ask? Had she _ever_ been on a date in her life? If she had to ask, it was a fair bet that she hadn't. But before he went on and answered her question, he didn't want to jump the gun on anything. "If you want it to be," he said. Then he thought that over and almost kicked himself.

"Do _you_ want it to be?" Yeah, he was kicking himself rather hard now.

But instead of inflicting actual pain on himself, Ed rolled his eyes at Winry. "I asked you first," he muttered, feeling rather childish. He'd played these games before and knew that the only way he would get out alive was if _he_ answered what _he_ thought and was either mauled or tackled in a giant hug.

"You called me a friend; that doesn't imply a date." Was she going to use reverse psychology? If that was the case, then Ed could play it right back.

So he pushed his mostly empty plate forward and looked at Winry. "And you gave me the coldest look ever formed. I think I have frostbite on my--"

"Edward!"

"What? I was going to say ankle!" he argued. "Get your mind out of where it shouldn't be, Winry Rockbell," he scolded. "And I think you want this to be a date. That's why I have frostbite in weird places." He watched her squirm at the truth suddenly shoved at her. "Am I right?"

She shrugged and looked around. "Yes," she mumbled, almost too quiet for Ed to hear.

Then Edward surprised himself. He reached out and took her hand. "Then it's a date," he told her softly. He came to himself again after that, but knew it would be unfair and confusing if he suddenly shoved her hand away after telling her that this was a date. "Finish your dinner." Now he let go of her hand.

---------------------------

It was about twenty minutes later, fifteen minutes to eight, when Edward led Winry through a back alley behind the restaurant. She was a little uneasy, even with the knowledge of Ed's occupation, going through the dark. And since it had been snowing later, the snow had an eerie glow from the small amount of light coming through the clouds and buildings. She would _never_ admit to anyone that she was afraid of the dark. No, she'd give up her vocal chords first. Which reminded her about all the songs she needed to write. Since Edward had come into her life, she hadn't had much time to write her lyrics and come up with the general tune she wanted. Never mind that she could probably live for quite a few decades off of what she had now.

"What is this place?" she asked. "It's kind of out of the way."

Ed looked back at her, since he was kind of pulling her along after him down the alley. "A nightclub." And when he said that, the club music could be heard through the brick walls before them. He suddenly stopped a few yards from the door, turned, and gave Winry an inquisitive look. "You are twenty-one, right?" he asked.

She paused. Then she squirmed. "I...will be twenty-one soon enough." Just a few more days, she told herself, which were equivalent of a few weeks. But, no one else had to know that, right? Maybe Edward knew the people who ran this place, too, and could get her in, no problem. Didn't stuff like that happen all the time? There were probably tons of people who got into clubs nightly and they were at least eighteen. So what if it was breaking the law? She'd done it before; she could and probably would do it again tonight.

"Okay. Well, you're not drinking anything. Remember, I _am_ a cop," Edward reminded her.

Winry smirked when he pulled her to the door. "A corrupt one," she commented. She would refrain from further words to describe him because she would likely embarrass herself.

In a few short minutes and some quick talking, Edward and Winry were stepping into the nightclub. Music was playing loudly and pulsing the air around them. The atmosphere was very unlike the restaurant; the air was damp and slightly stale. Then, there was the smell of alcohol faintly. Winry followed her nose - and Edward - over to the bar. He was pulling her behind him again, squeezing through the throng of people near the bar. Upon reaching the crowded area, Edward somehow effectively removed two people from two barstools for them. Winry smirked in amusement.

He said something and gestured at the seat, but she couldn't hear his words for the music. "What?" she said loudly.

"I said," he began to repeat, " 'a seat for the lady!' " Then he gestured more towards the seat again.

"Oh." She moved to slide up on her own, but felt Edward's hands around her waist, lifting her up onto the seat. She blushed a little and looked at him discretely. There was a slight color on his cheeks, but it could have been from the cold outside. Winry, however, felt compelled to believe it was from his unexpected action from the way he was frozen in place, his hands still on her waist, with a bit of a confused look on his face. "Edward?"

He literally jumped back into motion. "Yeah? Oh." He slid up to his barstool and leaned forward. "Oi!" he shouted, getting the bartender's attention. "A soda for the girl and I'll take a glass of scotch."

The bartender nodded and was off to do his tending of the bar duty. Winry looked at Ed. "Am I driving home, then?" she asked, turning so she could face him better.

He glanced at her then leaned on one arm so he could see her better. "No. I have a high tolerance for alcohol and can walk in a straight line after drinking six shots of tequila," he boasted.

"Really," she drawled, unimpressed. "I assume you've tried it before?" She wasn't expecting him to answer, only to give her some type of look then wait impatiently for their drinks.

Instead, Edward _did_ give her a challenging look. He quirked his eyebrows at her momentarily with a bit of a smile. "You bet I did. With my friends, too," he answered as their drinks arrived. He lifted the shot glass to her.

Winry waited until he had the scotch in his mouth before speaking. "You have friends? I didn't know that," she said, opening her soda and pouring it in the glass in front of her.

Edward looked like he was about to choke, but quickly downed the amber alcohol. "Yeah, I have friends. I have, let's see..." He held out his hand and started counting on his fingers. Then he held up four fingers. "I have four friends." Then he laughed.

The only thing Winry thought of at the moment was alcohol was a personality enhancer. Edward wasn't as immune to alcohol as he though he was. She was about to see Edward Elric in full swing of his laid-back personality. "Who are your four friends?" she wanted to know.

"Alphonse, Hughes, and Armstrong," he muttered.

"What about your boss?" She took a sip of her soda.

"Screw him."

Winry laughed. "That isn't very nice. What about the fourth?"

"You."

Words deserted her. At a time like this, words deserted her. _Why_, God, _why_! Then, a godsend.

-----------------------

"Come on, let's dance," Ed took her hand as he slipped off the barstool. He pulled her hand gently, but she didn't move. When she didn't move, Edward looked back at her strangely. "What is it?" She mumbled something under her breath that was impossible to hear over the music. "What?" Ed took a step closer to her.

Winry leaned forward and put her mouth close to his ear. "I can't dance to this music," she told him in an embarrassed, hissing whisper.

It took a moment for Edward to realize what she'd said, but when it hit him, it took a bit for him to keep from laughing. So he dropped her hand and turned to her fully. "Can you move your hips?" he asked as he placed his hands just below her waist and pulled her off the barstool.

She looked a little startled at first, but nodded. "Yes, a bit," she said finally.

Ed flashed her a smile and grabbed her hand again. "Good. Come on." Then he yanked her out to the middle of the club floor and, once he found a spot, let the music begin to course through his veins like the very blood there.

And as Ed was moving to the beat of the music, Winry looked a little lost. "What do I do?" she pleaded with her eyes.

"Just move. You hear the beat?" She nodded. "Find your rhythm – move your hips, girl – find your rhythm and just move." Edward watched her struggle with finding her rhythm. Then he sighed loudly. "Oi, Lanie!" he yelled over the music.

"Who's Lanie?" Winry asked, ceasing all movement.

"Get over here!" Ed yelled. "Friend of mine. She can _dance_," he said to Winry. In seconds, Lanie was standing before them. She was chewing gum and had an expression that said she, quite frankly, didn't care about much.

"Yeah?" She pushed her dark hair behind her ear.

Ed grinned. "Help my friend figure out how to dance," he requested.

Lanie smirked and looked at Winry. "Show me what you can do, first of all," she said, cracking her gum.

Winry stood there, staring at the tan-skinned woman. She blinked once or twice, but that was about it. Then she cast a pleading look at Ed. "Can I just go sit down while you have fun?"

"No. Wasn't this a date? Learn how to dance," Ed commanded.

Lanie laughed. "Okay, so just watch me. We'll start simple." She swayed her hips to the music and looked at Winry expectantly. The blond woman reluctantly followed the example. "Good!" Lanie smiled genuinely.

Ed watched them just sway for about a song and a half. Since he had been paying attention to the people in the club, looking for a couple certain people, he'd lost track of when he'd started really dancing until he stopped between songs for a breather. Sweat was beginning to make an appearance along his hairline. When the next song came on, a kind of reggae-like beat, Lanie proceeded with her instruction.

"Okay. Try moving your arms now," she said and began to lift her hands above her head.

Winry froze. "I thought I was moving my arms."

Lanie chuckled and grabbed Winry's wrists. "Up." There was a great contrast between Winry's pale skin and Lanie's well-tanned color as she lifted the blonde's hands above her head. "Keep them there and just follow me," she directed. Lanie twirled her wrists around and then just began to visibly lose track of movement. "Just move to the music, honey," she told Winry when she noted the slightly older woman's puzzled and lost expression.

Winry nodded and did begin to 'just move.' Ed smiled at her when she glanced his way, causing her to blush a little. He winked at her. Then something else caught his attention. Lanie danced towards him and he soon lost himself in the movement and the closeness of the young woman who was under the same spell. When they finally surfaced at the end of the song, he looked at Winry, who had a very putout expression on her face. She'd ceased almost all movement, except for a little swaying of her hips. Ed frowned.

"I need a drink," he said to the girls. He really didn't; he just wanted to see what Winry would do.

"All right," Lanie said. She turned to Winry. "I'll teach your girl a few more moves then I gotta jet. My mom expects me home soon." She smiled and looked at Winry.

Edward, who was now having one of the rare moments where he appreciated his height, walked towards the bar but hid behind a very tall-to-Edward man. There was something peculiar about the man, but Ed shoved the feeling away and began his eavesdropping. What he heard slightly surprised him.

"You jealous much?" Lanie asked Winry.

The blond woman flinched in surprise. "What?"

Lanie smiled in a friendly manner. "You looked like you wanted to kill me when I was dancing with Edward," she pointed out.

"N-No, I was just—"

Lanie laughed a little and touched Winry's arm. "Please. I felt ice. But don't get upset; he and I are kind of like siblings. Go for him. I can tell you like him a lot."

Winry didn't respond. Ed decided to come to a rescue and walked back over. "Okay," he said. "It was great to see you, Lanie," he said and patted her shoulder.

She smiled. "You too, Ed. And it was great to meet you, Winry," she smiled, embraced the woman and kissed her cheek. Then she did the same for Ed and ran off, still with the beat.

Winry still looked a little upset visibly. Although Ed knew why, he still asked. "What's wrong?" He tried to touch her cheek. She turned away.

"Nothing."

"Liar. You know where liars go?" He grinned and danced a little closer to her.

"Well, you lie plenty. So I guess we're going to hell together." She scowled.

He scoffed like he just figured out what she was upset about. "Are you upset that I was dancing with Lanie?" he asked, trying to sound incredulous. He was met with silence. "Win, we're only friends. And she's very impulsive." He tipped Winry's chin up. She looked a little shocked. "What?"

"Are you drunk yet? You just called me 'Win.' "

He shook his head and laughed as the song changed to a slow techno beat. "Winry, I—" He started to speak, but a very drunk person bumped into Winry and sent her falling against Ed. He caught her gently and glared at the man. "Walk much?" he shouted to be heard.

The man tried to glare as well, but was too inebriated. "You better watch your mouth, buddy," he slurred, "or we'll settle this outside."

Ed pulled his badge out of his pocket. "What? I couldn't hear you." He rolled his eyes when the man went away, muttering. "Jerk. I should arrest him since he's probably gonna be driving." He looked at Winry. "You okay?" She nodded. "You wanna dance?"

Winry looked at him like he'd offered her death. "I still can't dance," she said gently.

"Sure you can," he told her. "If you can slow dance, you can do this."

She sighed. "Fine. What do I do?"

He smiled and turned her around. Then he pulled her back against him gently. "Just move," he breathed in her ear, "with me. He placed his hands on her waist to keep from running off in surprise and began to move with the music.

For Ed, there wasn't much to dancing. He found his inner rhythm and let himself go. There was no set way he danced—he moved how he felt. If he felt alive and hyper, then he often began to sweat after one or two songs. If he felt depressed, he found a quiet, dark corner and swayed. Occasionally, he'd dance with a random chick. But, he hadn't been clubbing in a long time, so he was a little rusty in his moves. No one would guess, though, unless they'd known him before when he would go every weekend. It had been a good source of exercise for him, outside the police work. Then he'd become a work-a-holic. Which wasn't bad, because he'd found Winry. But he'd secretly suffered. He'd become antisocial, depressed, angry, and all those other emotions a psychiatrist would have a field day diagnosing. But since he'd met Winry, it had all changed. He'd felt so many things he'd forgotten he could feel. It was kind of unbelievable.

In fact, one new emotion had begun to surface that night. He was beginning to fall in love with Winry.


	11. Sucker Punched

**Disclaimer: Don't own FMA. If I did, wow. The characters would actually have birth_dates_, certain days from the months and years! lol**

Author's Note: This isa short chapter, forgive me. I've been busy. As usual. You know, I really only have time to write Wednesday through Sunday, and that isn't a lot of time, actually, to write something from almost scratch. But anyway, I'm trying hard to keep up for you guys. I have some news, which you can skip if you want. I just like sharing things. I dyed my hair black Tuesday (the 11th) morning! W00T! It's like...lose me in the dark black, or you would if I wasn't pale-ish. Sunday, the 9th, I got the Goo Goo Dolls Gutterflower CD. They are like, my most favorite band. Yay! And Friday, the 14th, I'm going toa Fall Out Boy concert! I've only really listened to and learned the words to their song "Sugar We're Goin' Down" and that's it. lol But anyway, I reveal a lot in this chapter, and we're getting into some action! Whoo! It's a two part, so forgive me.

Birthday notes:P.P.G.'s friend FMA Fan (both anonymously reviewed) asked me to write this as a birthday present for P.P.G. Well, it's a day early, but happy birthday, P.P.G.! Congratz. :P

Advertisements: Yes, yes, I put this up every chapter because I said I would. But you all should know the stories now, so I will just tell you the authors. Shiruba Neko, IsisoftheUnderground, and Asha3. If you like Lord of the Rings or Phantom of the Opera, go read Meluivan Indil's stories. She is the one who started the petition for getting our review reponse rights back! So I sincerely hope we get them back soon.

Okay, now we can go on. Oh, no song title, just an event in the chapter.

Chapter 11: Sucker Punched

It was about fifteen minutes after that world-shattering dance when Edward escaped to the restroom. He'd been too caught up in the moment to realize that the strange feelings he'd been experiencing now were _bad_. Very, _very _bad. He couldn't fall in love! Especially with the woman he was supposed to be keeping safe! Things just didn't work that way, no matter how some people may have thought.

Yes, it was true Edward had come to care for Winry. He hadn't been able to tell whether he cared for her as a sister or something more. He knew now, and he didn't like it. It was just against all the rules and ethics he'd set for himself. And not to mention all the jokes he'd hear from Mustang about it. Wasn't it enough that Edward was barely five-foot-three and no one let him forget that? No...falling in love wasn't allowed, not with anyone.

With a great sigh, Ed leaned his forehead against the cold wall. Who was he kidding? Certainly not himself. But maybe he could. Maybe he could make himself fall _out_ of love, become cold and neutral. He could do that, couldn't he? Just be there to take care of her until things were settled, then be on his merry way to never seeing her again? Then everyone would be happy. Winry hadn't confessed any passionate feelings for him. Yet. He didn't know if it was true, but it seemed obvious to everyone that she liked him. Ed didn't believe it...no one could _really_ love him. He was too dark and depressed with so many secrets. No one liked a closed-mouthed boyfriend. Girls wanted to know everything and anything about the guy they were dating. And that just didn't work. There were things in Ed's life that he just did _not_ talk about it.

Like the accident.

He pushed away from the wall with a sigh and turned to face his trials for the night. Instead of his trials, Ed almost collided with a tall man. It was the guy he'd hid behind to overhear Lanie and Winry's conversation.

"Watch where you're walking, shorty," the man said and went on his way.

Edward seethed, but controlled the impulse to lash out on the man for calling him short. "Same to you, man," he said instead and left the bathroom, now in a mood. What a great attitude for a date. Then something struck him, almost quite literally. There was a certain scent about that man, something familiar that struck far into his past, the past he wanted to forget. He stood at the door, trying to figure out what the memory was. Then a toilet flushed and ruined his concentration, the few thoughts he'd had together scattering. Out of the corner of his eye, Ed saw the man come back out of a stall and smirk. Then the scenery changed to the dark club. He looked around for Winry and found her at the bar.

"Hey," he murmured and sat beside her. She looked a little shaken, as well. "What is it?"

"I saw your friend...that woman from the diner," Winry said, shivering. "Something about her..."

Edward swore and pursed his lips. "Okay, so they did come here," he said to himself aloud.

"What?"

He looked at the woman beside him and sighed. "Whatever happens, Winry, I want you to stay out of sight, okay? Did Quintus see you? Did she say anything?" Ed slipped off the barstool. As his feet touched the ground, he remembered something.

That scent...it had been around Primus, as well. But it was impossible. Maybe just a coincidence in cologne? Who else would be on this scheme? Everyone and his uncle? Edward growled and mentally checked himself for weapons. He had a small gun at his ankle, and a standard issue pistol in his coat, and that was about it. And his coat was up at the front. Just lucky.

"Edward?" Winry touched his shoulder softly.

He looked at her seriously. "I have a lot of leads on your case; tonight was supposed to be when Quintus and Primus met for something," he told her. "I don't see Primus, but he could be virtually anywhere. So I want you to find Lanie and go back to Secundus' restaurant." Even in the man was in on it, he would probably be too busy to notice anything out of the ordinary. "I'll take care of everything else, all right?"

"Edward, what are you--"

"Just go; I'll explain it all later!" he said loudly and pulled her off the barstool. He dragged her with him to the door and caught Lanie just before she left. Edward quickly explained what he wanted them to do and shoved them out the door. Then he turned to the bouncer. There was an X-shaped scar on his face over his eyes and the bridge of his nose. "Oi, how many people would you say are here?" he asked.

The bouncer looked at him sternly for a minute until Ed flashed his badge. "Maybe a hundred or more," the tall, beefy man said. "Why?"

"I need to get at least half of these people out in the next ten minutes. Can you do that?" The diminuitive man looked around for any view of the two individuals he was searching for. Where had Winry seen Quintus? He should have asked her where. He was about to reach for his cell phone to call Lanie when he spotted the woman sitting in a booth in the far corner. Ed turned his attention back to the bouncer, somewhat satisfied. "Could you get as many people as you can out of here without it seeming too suspicious?"

"Why do you need these people out?" the very, very tall man asked, leering down at Ed.

Edward ignored the fact that someone was looking _down_ at him from a very tall height, with what looked like either very brown or red eyes in the dark club. But he pulled his badge out again and let the man inspect it. "My case right now is to keep a very important person safe, and I have a lead on that case. Two people in on it were supposed to meet here tonight," he explained quietly. Then that man who had called him short in the bathroom caught the corner of Ed's attention, standing off to his side. There was just something about him that didn't seem right...

"And you want me to get some people out of here because?" the bouncer asked, handing the badge back with a strange look that Ed didn't really like.

Edward quickly pocketed the black leather and grabbed his coat, seeing that things weren't going well. "I don't want people to get hurt in case something happens," he said, quickly becoming cross. And it wasn't just that he was short, either. People questioning his judgement usually upset him.

"Something happens?" The bouncer sneered at Ed.

"Yes! Something that you probably wouldn't want to happen while you're here!" he nearly shouted. A couple people looked at him, but Ed ignored it. "Now please, I will need your cooporation or I'll do it myself - with backup."

The man smirked now. "Do it your way. Police or not," he grumbled and continued looking out around the room.

Edward bit his lip in frustration and reached for his cell phone. Reluctantly, he dialed the number for Roy Mustang. The line rang for about a minute until he heard a very frustrated, curt, "What is it?"

" 'Bout time. I need backup over here," he spat quickly into phone.

"Where are you, and why?" Mustang sounded bored.

Ed gave the name of the nightclub. "Hughes called me today with a lead about my case; even though I only see one person I need, I have a bad feeling about someone else. Will you just get some people over here?"

"Why?"

_1, 2, 3..._ Edward counted in his head. "Because the bouncer is not being any help at all and I just can't up and say 'Police, everyone get out,' because I'll lose my lead!"

Mustang was silent for time enough that Edward checked his phone to see if the man had hung up on him. "How many people do you want?" There was reluctance in the man's voice, but Edward felt grateful, deep down within him.

"I don't care. You're the boss; as many as you can spare," he said then went silent. He wished for silence so Mustang would think Edward had hung up and mutter something before putting the receiver down. But, the club was the background and it was rather loud so find out any secrets was not in his favor at the moment.

"I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks," Edward said. He didn't let it be known that he was feeling a certain debt to Mustang, though. He started to pull the phone away from his ear but the man's voice stopped him.

"Oh, and Edward?" There was that tone, the one Ed hated with a passion that was unholy.

He was hesitant to answer, but knew he had to. "What?"

"If you find your people, be sure to speak up so they can hear you." Short guy jokes. Had to love them. _Not_!

"Shut up and get some people over here," Ed snapped and hung up. The urge to jump up and down was very high and it took a lot to resist it. But, he did and decided to loiter over around close to Quintus. He wouldn't talk to her or be seen, he would just be close so he could intervene, should something happen. And Edward sincerely hoped that nothing _would_ happen.

He waited for a few minutes. And then he waited for a few more minutes. Finally his cell phone rang and caused him to jump nearly five feet in the air. He reached for the device in his pocket and looked at the number. "Great," he muttered. Then he his the 'talk' button and brought the phone to his ear. "Hi, Izumi," he said as brightly as he could manage at the moment.

"What's that noise?" she asked immediately. The woman never missed anything.

"I'm in a club, waiting for someone. What is it?" he asked, hoping she wouldn't ask anymore into his location.

There was a pause, and that made Edward very nervous. Silence on Izumi's behalf was never a good thing. "Those two people you're after," she said, "I found something out about their names."

"What's that?" Maybe he could spare her some time if she was going to help.

"They're both Latin names. The butler, Primus...his name means 'first,' and your friend Quintus, her name means 'fifth.' " She paused again. "I haven't come up with anything more than that, but I have a few thoughts. It could be a code."

It was starting to come together to Edward, finally. "And I can guess two others. Thanks, Izumi." Those two others were Secundus and Quintus' friend, Quartarius. Then something caught his attention. "Hey, I have to go. My friend is here," he said and hung up.

Edward shook his head at the said friend that had just entered the club. Edward had hoped that Mustang would send some of the less conspicuous people, but it wasn't so. The man that walked in was almost twice Edward's size and looked a little silly with a single blonde curl on the top of his shining head. The man's light blue eyes scanned the room and finally focused on Edward. The man slowly made his way across the room slowly and stood a decent distance away.

"I was hoping that Mustang would send someone like Havoc. He fits in the nightlife well," Ed grumbled.

Armstrong looked down at Edward. "Where are the people you are looking for?" he asked.

When Ed returned the man's gaze, he felt truly intimidated by the man's size alone. But he would never admit that. He knew that Armstrong had a tough exterior, but was rather tender when it came to his emotion. And _that_ was why he could never admit being intimidated. The man would break out into his fit of tears and marvel at how manly it was to admit something like that.

Manly or not, Edward kept his emotions to himself and for good reason. "Quintus, the woman, is at that table a few booths down. I don't know where Primus is," he said quietly. "I haven't seen him."

"Yes, you have, shorty," a voice said from behind Edward.

Edward instinctively turned around and immediately had a fist come in contact with his jaw. _Low blow,_ he thought and waited to come in hard contact with something; the floor, angry people, anything. Instead, he felt someone grab his arm and yank him back upright. Ed looked to see who had caught him and gaped.

"Secundus," he said. He hadn't expected that. He'd expected the man to be in on it. But maybe he was. Then the sudden reality that he had just been sucker punched set in, along with the pain. And the blood. He dragged his sleeve across his lip and winced at the stinging there. Great.

Then he looked at the man who had punched him. It was that guy from earlier, the one he'd hid behind and seen in the bathroom. And currently, the strange, rather rude man was looking at Secundus with fury. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

Secundus shrugged. "I heard there was going to be trouble," he said nonchalantly. "Thought I would come check it out."

Edward quickly picked his coat up and took a few cautious steps back. Couldn't let his gun get too far away now, could he? He cast a glance at Armstrong and saw that the man was poised for action. And Ed had a feeling action was just what they were going to get. He listened carefully while Secundus and the other man exchanged some hate-laced words for a while. Then Edward saw an opening. He reached his hand into his inner jacket pocket slowly until his fingers bumped the gun handle. Very carefully and trying not to be obtrusive and conspicuous, he wrapped his fingers around the handle. He was inwardly grateful to Secundus for keeping the strange man occupied.

Ed didn't know what he would do, really, until it had happened already. He knew it wasn't very smart, but he drew his gun. He saw Armstrong visibly flinch, but reach for his gun as well. Ed scowled, cursing his stupidity. Why had he even pulled it out of his pocket? He could have just stood there and then had some weird conversation, mentally, with Armstrong. But no, he had to be the hero/idiot and draw his gun under no provacation. But anyway, he pointed the gun at the man he had yet to find out about. "I want everyone out," he shouted, "everyone except you--" then he moved the gun towards Secundus "--you--" and then pointed it at the just now noticed Quintus "--and you. You three have to stay. We have a bone to pick." When people just stood there, staring at him stupidly, Ed looked at Armstrong. "I know I started this, but could ya help maybe?"

Armstrong made a few noises at him then nodded. One step forward had people shuffling towards the door. They were murmuring amongst themselves, spreading rumors already. Some said to call the police--which Ed answered that he _was_ the police--and others just thought it a weird night with too much booze. Edward motioned at Quintus, who was still seated in her booth and looking rather innocent and shocked. "You, stand up." If things got hairy, he could plead off of self-defense, right? The tall man _had_ sucker punched him first.

"I don't see why--"

"Shut up. You do see why, Quintus, now stand over here by Mr..."

The tall man refused to give out his name, only staring at Edward like he'd lost him mind. Maybe Ed should know who he was. As he watched Quintus saunter over to where the other two men were, he went through the vault in his mind of the people he knew and had worked with or for in the past. None fit the dark haired man before him. Slowly, the man's face began to change to a smirk, then into a sneer. His pale skin stood out in the room, in great contrast to the so-black-it-was-almost-green hair he had. There was just something about this guy that Ed didn't like, something so...familiar. It was making him wonder if he was losing his mind.

Armstrong returned and looked displeased with Edward. The shorter blond man didn't care at the moment. He just cared about getting out of the building alive. Then he would worry about other things. Such as what to do with his blasted emotions.

No, no time to think about that! He shoved thoughts of _her_ to the back of his mind. The last thing he needed was a distraction. And that was another reason to add to _why_ he couldn't be in love; it was an unwanted distraction.

"What now, Edward?" Armstrong asked.

Good question. "Give me a second," Ed replied. "Well first, Secundus, what _are_ you doing here?" He lowered the gun and looked at his friend. Or was Secundus a friend?

"Like I told Envy, I heard there was going to be trouble. I thought I would come--"

"Hold on," Edward interrupted. "Did you just say 'Envy?' " An incredulous, you-have-just-gotten-on-my-psycho-list look made its way onto his face. "Who is Envy?"

The tall man held up his hand. "Better known to you as Primus, though, shorty." Then something that would have made someone with a weaker constitution lose it happened... The tall man was slowly engulfed in a bright light, starting from his feet and going up. When the light disappeared, there stood the old man that served for Winry's butler. "You aren't that bright, you know."

Ed stood in shock. Had the man just changed his freaking _shape_! That was just messed up, he thought. It was not humanly possible for someone to change their shape. He hazarded a look at Armstrong to see the man had probably the same expression as Edward.

This was just turning into a very, very strange night. He looked back at Secundus to see the man looking unimpressed. In the back of Edward's mind, he wondered just who was keeping an eye on Winry...

-------------------

**Dun, dun, dun...to be continued! Don't forget to review, my darlings. . Peace. Lurve. Reviews.**


	12. Didn't Mean To

**Disclaimer: Don't own FMA. And considering I have been doing pretty good with my copyrights, that is all. I own most of the idea...I own the thought for renaming the Homunculi with Latin names...anyway, you get the picture. **

Advertisement: The usual, Shiruba Neko. Her new story, Brothers, is so wonderful! It's the sequel to Illness...I absolutely adore both stories. (I adore all of her stories, actually.) So go read those. ThenI just emailed Asha3 her chapter back, so she should be updating as soon as she has time. IsisoftheUnderground has a new story, Fullmetal Amnesia and that is really good. Though I haven't read the latest chapter yet... -shifty eyes- You guys go read it, though! Then Meluvian Indil's storiesif you like Lord of the Rings and/or Phantom of the Opera.

Chapter 12: Didn't Mean To

Winry sighed. She'd been sitting in the restaurant for the past half hour with nothing to do but stare into oblivion. Lanie had left very shortly after they'd entered the restaurant, pleading a curfew. So, for fifteen minutes, she'd been talking to Secundus until one of his waiters, a young looking man with light blond hair slicked back to a point almost, had come and whispered something in Secundus' ear. The brown haired man had excused himself politely. A few minutes later, Winry had seen him storming out of the restaurant, buckles on his leather jacket clinking with his steps.

That had alarmed her a little. And now, for the fifteen minutes following the restaurant owner's sudden departure, Winry had been twirling her finger along the rim of a wine glass filled halfway with water. The constant humming was kind of soothing in a strange way. But if it wasn't soothing, it was subconsciously annoying her and keeping her from thinking. Whichever way, Winry was successfully avoiding thinking of what Edward had planned earlier, and what he was doing at that moment. Which was a good thing, actually. Lately, she'd found the more she thought about Edward, the more she realized how much she loved him.

Yes, she was head over heels for a man she had known for only a few weeks and who was a royal pain in the--

"Wine?" a thick, feminine voice asked from beside Winry.

She stopped the movement of her finger abruptly and looked at the waitress. It was that one woman from earlier, the one with the wine bottle and the quick reflexes. (Note: see chapter 10 edit) She was bent over a little with a tray and a bottle on it extended to Winry. The woman smiled a little.

"Uh, no thanks...I'm not quite old enough to drink yet," Winry replied, smiling politely.

The other woman grinned. "That's all right. It isn't high alcohol content, and I won't tell anyone," she said and set the tray down on the table. Winry looked at her strangely for a moment when the woman took a seat on the other side of the booth. "I'm Martel."

"Winry," she said, smiling and continuing her playing of the water glass.

Martel nodded. "So, why are you back here, without your guy friend?" she asked.

Winry sighed and hung her head down to where her chin was almost touching below her neck. "I don't know, really. One minute, I'm having the dance of my life with the most handsome guy I have ever seen, then the next I'm being shoved out into the cold snow with some girl I only just met." Then she looked up at Martel. "Guys are so confusing."

She shrugged. "I haven't had much experience with guys, outside of the men here at the restaurant. And that isn't in the romantic sense. But maybe I can help you somehow." She poured some wine into one of the glasses on the tray and took a sip.

"Well...the guy that I was with earlier--"

"Edward Elric," Martel put in, giving a half smile.

Winry nodded. "He's my bodyguard, as of about a month now...and he is the most annoying, stubborn, neanderthaloid, wonderful man I have ever known." She sighed romantically. Then she blushed. "Pathetic, I know."

Martel was about to say something, but a frantic voice stopped her. "Winry!" The person calling for Winry immediately came into view with one of the waiters chasing him.

"You need to be quiet, or you'll be escorted from the building," the very buff guy was saying.

Martel scowled at him. "Law, let him be," she scolded.

Winry looked up in surprise and saw Al a few feet away from her, leaning forward with his hands on his knees and sucking in air. "Alphonse?" she said warily. "What's wrong?"

It was about another minute before Al stood up. He was still breathing heavily, but tried to speak. "Where's...Edward?" he asked, taking a very deep breath. Still a little in shock, Winry wondered what on earth was going on. Should she tell him?

"He's in the club behind the alley," another waiter said, coming up beside Al. It was the man that had told Secundus something that had caused the man to leave in a fit.

Then Martel stood up. All of this back and forth was making Winry dizzy. Did Al know something she didn't? But Martel spoke up finally. "What's wrong, Alphonse?" she asked, looking concerned.

Al looked around and saw that there were quite a few eyes on him. "I got a call from the station..." he said. "There's trouble." The three floor staff members and Winry all flinched visibly.

"What's wrong?" Winry asked. If anything happened to Edward... She didn't want to think about that.

Without giving an answer, Al looked at the pointed-haired waiter. "Dorochet, can I use the phone?" he asked, sounding a little desperate.

"Of course." Dorochet disappeared. Promptly, the other waiter, Law, leftas well. Winry sat in her place still, wondering what was going on.

"Alphonse," she said quietly, "what is wrong?"

Again, he ignored her until Dorochet came back out with a telephone. He started dialing numbers and brought the handset to his ear finally. Winry seethed.

Tired of being brushed off, she snapped out. "What is wrong, Alphonse!" she said rather loudly, standing up so abruptly the chair toppled over.

Everyone looked at her strangely for a moment, surprised at her outburst. Then there was a very loud silence. Winry heard the ringing on the phone, it was so quiet. Then Al spoke. "Brother is in trouble," he said softly.

And no sooner had he said that, the ringing stopped, the voicemail picked up, and there was a very loud, very alarming noise. It was familiar, yet unfamiliar in a strange, no one wanted to admit that it was what it was type of noise. Winry gasped in surprise and turned around instinctively. Dorochet whipped his head towards the wall, listening intently. Martel looked around suspiciously. Al took a deep breath.

"Was that noise what I think it was?" Winry asked quietly, also taking a deep breath to calm herself down. She felt a rage fit coming up, and currently Al was in her line of fire.

Dorochet answered first. "It depends on what you think it was, " he replied.

Winry swore and stepped towards Al and Dorochet. "What's going on?" she yelled loudly, feeling the raw emotion welling up inside of her. Her heart was almost in her mouth, making it hard to talk. "What just happened?"

Al shook his head. "I don't know Winry. Stay here," he ordered.

Winry seethed. "No! I am not going to stay here! Edward is in trouble and you aren't even running to help him! So while you're just standing here, tell me what is going on!" she shouted at him. "Now!"

Before Al could answer, Law came back with a coat and handed it to Al. He sighed. "I'm only here stillbecause you'll follow me if I go," he replied, trying to sound calm but failing.

"Tell me what is going on!" Winry demanded.

Al sighed, seeing no alternative. "Hughes called me and told me some stuff about the case. Now please, stay here. I don't want you to get hurt," he told her.

"I'm--"

"Winry! Every second I'm here is more time lost that Edward could be in trouble!" Al swung his arm towards the kitchen, which on the other side of the kitchen was, in fact, the nightclub. "Stay here!"

Winry was silent as she glared at Alphonse. He glared right back. Everyone was watching them; the patrons, the waiters, and Martel. Everyone was waiting for someone to move.

-----------------------

Ed grumbled to himself. He was in a very uncomfortable position behind an overturned table. His back was pressed up against it with a chair over his left leg. Since he didn't feel the pain that might have been there, he didn't move his leg. He knew he would have to move soon, though, because a cramp was settling itself in his thigh. But for him to move his leg meant upsetting the chair, and then shifting the table. And since he was leaning almost his entire weight against the table, moving the table meant falling backwards. And that just wouldn't work. Nope, not at all.

Yeah, he'd thought about the scenario in deep enough detail, or as much as he could in five minutes minutes.

Something else he'd thought about was just how he had managed to get where he was at present.

Well, first, he'd been talking to Secundus, Quintus,and Primus...or rather...Envy. _That_ had been something he did _not_ want to know about, what sick mother would name her child after a deadly sin and why. Story best left untold. Then Primus-Envy had said something particularly upsetting and alarming to Edward. It had been something about the accident, and that had been enough for Edward. _No one_ was supposed to know about that, no one. So, he'd promptly pointed the gun at Primus-Envy once more with a surprisingly steady hand. Surprising because Edward had felt like he was shaking all over from mention of the accident. If they knew about that, then what else did they know?

Then his cell phone had started ringing. The sudden tune had just been so unexpected. And the crappy thing about it was Edward couldn't answer it. Everyone was so taut with tension that anyone to make one move would trigger a catastrophe. So Edward had let it ring...and ring...and ring more. The polyphonic tune to a silly cartoon had quickly become annoying in the near silent room. That had been the only reason he had that tone--so he would answer it almost immediately.

Anyway, as soon as the ringer had stopped, things had gotten..."hairy." Primus-Envy had shifted to a shape silently and inconspicuously during the cell phone ringing and had long, spiky, greenish hair. Green...green with envy. But he had slowly been inching forward unnoticeably and had taken action immediately when he had the opening. He'd kicked at Edward's wrist, but the gun hadn't flown out yet. Thus the first shot fired at a light fixture. Then Primus-Envy had successfully knocked the gun out of Ed's hand somehow or otherand it had slid off in some direction.

With Edward somewhat unarmed and reluctant to use his alchemy, he had tried to fight Primus-Envy. To put it in short and to spare Edward some humility, Ed had gotten his candy bottom whipped by his current opponent. _(A/N: "candy bottom": figure of speech; sorry crazed fangirls, as far as I know, Edward does not have a bottom made of candy.)_ In the process of Edward's butt-kicking, tables and chairs had been knocked over after him being thrown on them and whatnot. And while Edward liked to consider himself at least a little skilled in fighting hand-to-hand, this guy was just out of _anyone's_ league when it came to the martial arts he was putting out! Edward had soon tired of being kicked in the face, so he had escaped long enough to jump behind a table. In his rush, he'd knocked over a few chairs and one had landed on his leg. He had been about to alchemize his metal arm into a blade when he'd seen the gun; even better. How convenient.

So that was how Edward had ended up hunched behind the table with a barstool crushing his leg. He mentally checked the bullets in the gun to see how long he could draw this out.

"Hey, shorty!" Primus-Envy shouted. "You're too small to hide! You'll get lost somewhere! Just come out and shoot me."

Infuriated at the short guy joke, Edward threw the chair off his leg (the table surprisingly stayed in place, much to the contrary of his thoughts), turned around, and aimed randomly. Since Primus-Envy's voice had sounded very close by, Ed had assumed that he would at least by close to the table. But instead of pointing the gun at Primus-Envy, he saw Winry staring at the gun barrel with something akin to shock.

"Edward," she whispered.

Ed shook his head, confused. "Winry? How did you get here?" he asked. Then he thought. "Why are you here? You could get hurt!"

Before Winry could answer, there was a shout at the door. "Brother!"

Ed looked over to see Al. When he looked back in Winry's direction, she was gone. In her place was the spiky, green-haired man with a malicious smile on his face. "Surprise," he said and made to kick at the gun.

Still in shock, Edward couldn't move. Primus-Envy's foot came in contact with Ed's hand and knocked the gun over towards the door. Then a shot rang out again, the trigger catching on something. Promptly following the shot was a cry. Ed looked in that direction and saw Al clutching his right shoulder. Then Ed suddenly had his own problems to deal with. A fist connected soundly with his jaw, sending him flying backwards.

"I'm _tired_ of this!" Edward yelled after uttering a few choice swear words. He clapped his hands and ran his left hand over his right hand. A silver blade burst through the flesh-like glove. He jumped up and charged at Primus-Envy.

They sparred for a while, neither gaining any hits. Finally, Primus-Envy jumped backwards and smirked. "Yo, shorty," he called.

Edward growled and tried to restrain himself. But since he was so furious at everything that crossed his path, he couldn't help the spastic reaction that followed. "Who are you calling an ant, you palm-tree head!" he shouted, instantly feeling very childish. Then he just glared.

"I'll catch ya later, my short friend," he said and then very promptly disappeared into the shadows.

Now in shock again after having been tricked so many times that night, Edward looked around. He didn't feel like he was being watched. Upon further speculation of the room, he noticed that Secundus and Quintuswere gone. Armstrong was just now coming back in the club. His cheeks were red, so Ed assumed the man had gone after the two. For some reason, Edward just didn't have a bad feeling about Secundus, so he couldn't badly about Armstrong returning empty armed. Quintus, he was just unsure about her entire dealing in this fiasco altogether.

When Edward focused on what the very tall, very broad man was doing, he swore. Quickly, he returned his alchemized blade back to a hand. "Al! Are you okay?" he yelled across the room and ran towards his brother. Al was leaning against a turnstyle, clutching his shoulder. The blood was staining what had oncebeen a white shirt, but was no longer. The younger man was breathing heavily through his mouth in the pain that had to be plaguing him. When Edward reached his brother, he knelt down on the floor and grabbed his hand. "Al, I'm sorry!" he said, his voice a little hoarse. "I'm so sorry, Al."

Al looked at him a little dazedly. "It's fine, Brother...you...didn't mean to," he managed. Then he squeezed Ed's hand weakly. "Winry's...at the restaurant, still." He took a deep, strainedbreath when Armstrong tried to shift his shoulder.

Edward swore again under his breath. "Armstrong, don't touch him. Call an ambulance," he ordered. "Al, I don't care about Winry right now. Are you going to be all right?" He put both of his hands around his brother's. They were like ice.

"Oh, my God," a light, female voice said from the door. "What happened?"

Al looked over at Winry and sighed. "Well, she's not there...anymore," he murmured.

"I can see that," Edward grumbled. He looked at Winry. "Are you out of your mind?" he demanded of her. She didn't even have her coat on!

"What happened?" she demanded, kneeling down beside Alphonse.

"He got shot," Ed stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Armstrong, when will that ambulance be here?"

The mostly-bald man looked down at Edward. "They are on their way, Edward. Calm down," he said.

Ed growled once more. "Don't tell me to calm down! I just shot my brother in the arm, and you want me to freaking calm down, Armstrong?" he shouted, positively shaking.

He heard Winry's gasp and, out of the corner of his eye, saw her snap to attention. "You shot your brother?" Her voice was ever-so-slightly accusing. And "ever-so-slightly" was just too much for Edward at the moment. His stress had him taut as a bowstring and just the slightest pressure to release it could send out a deathly missile on _anyone_. Anyone except Al.

"Of course not! Not on purpose!" He jumped up and began pacing. "Your stupid butler kicked the gun out of my hand and it shot off at Al!" In a very frustrated manner, Ed tangled his fingers in his hair. He made a few distressed noises and kept his back turned to the group. It was hard to keep his emotions in check and he didn't anyone to see anything he didn't want to show...such as the hot tears stinging in his eyes.

"Edward?" He heard Winry stand up and close the short distance between them, so he blinked away the moisture threatening to expose his stress. She lifted her hand to touch his shoulder. "Ed, it's going to--"

He pulled his hands out of his hair and jerked away from her. The sirens from the ambulance blared outside, alerting everyone to the vehicle's arrival. Ed stiffly walked to where his jacket was lying on the floor and took the collar in his hand. When he made his way past Winry, he dug his keys out of the pocket, slung it around her shoulders,and took her hand. "Follow us to the hospital," he told her, placing the keys in her palm. "I'm riding in the back of the ambulance with Al." Ed looked in her eyes for a moment searchingly. He wanted--no, he needed--to see the hope in her eyes, he needed something to let him know things would be all right.

She seemed to realize that's what he was looking for because she gave him a small, soothing smile. He was about to turn to leave when she touched her left hand to his cheek. "Edward," she whispered.

"Is someone going to ride with him in the ambulance?" a paramedic asked either of them.

Ed looked over away from Winry's hand and nodded. "I am."

"Okay," the woman said. "We're about to leave, so come on."

He was about to nod again when Winry used the back of her hand to gently turn his face back towards hers. "Edward," she said, a little louder than a whisper this time. "Things will be okay." Her tone was firm and assuring. "They will."

"Okay, Winry," he told her tonelessly, feeling a little impatient now since his brother was bleeding still and they were having a casual conversation. He started to turn away again, but Winry grabbed his hand.

She was silent for a moment, then found her tongue. "I'll see you soon, okay?" And before he answered, she wrapped her arms around his neck. Then she whispered something that Ed wasn't sure he had heard correctly, _at all_. He wasn't sure if he even _wanted _to hear it! "I love you."

---------------

**Muahaha! Lol Another cliffhanger. I love those at the moment. And it seems I have a thing for dragging out one day, then skipping a couple days at a time. So yeah...anyway...a lot of you didn't realize that Primus was Envy-chan? How was that? Which Homunculus did you think Primus was? Pride? Ah, anyhow...ummm...yeah, I am like...researching my butt off for the next chapter, and I'm going to California to see my brother tomorrow...I will be staying in a hotel...so I might be able to get to a computer there. I hope. But if not, you guys will have to bear a week without this! -sniffles- In the meantime, though, you all could go read Shura's stuff. She is wonderful, one of a kind. You all probably roll your eyes at me, "Ehh, she's just doing that because Riona's just a freaky author" or something. Actually! I would have advertised it anyway! Her stories are so unique and well written. Go read them! lol Okay...enough now. I'll stop rambling at you all. Hope you enjoyed it! Let me know, 'kay? Love you all! I will hopefully see you all next Wednesday! If not, until next time! **

Love, Ri-chan


	13. Beautiful Disaster

**Disclaimer: checks que cards I do not own Full Metal Alchemist or any of its components, characters, plotlines, et cetera. Byno means am I allowed to say I do own Full Metal Alchemist or any of its components, characters, plotlines, et cetera. Any statements made hereafter implying I do own the aforementioned details shall result in my writing license being revoked on charge of a big word I can't spell. Signed byMe--car rushes by. Thank you.**

Author's Note: I'm back from Cali! We had fun. Check my LiveJournal in a couple days for what we did. I'll put a link for it in my profile sooner or later...and update it hopefully Wednesday. Anyhow, this chapter took me so long to write! O.o But here it is! I hope you all enjoy it! I won't ramble at you. But the song "Beautiful Disaster" is by Kelly Clarkson, andI don't own that, either.

Advertisement: I have to admit, it's getting weird writing these every chapter, so I'll just put the author names: Shiruba Neko, Asha3, IsisoftheUnderground, Meluvian Indil. Go read their stuff!

Chapter 13: Beautiful Disaster

_Pain. So much pain. It was hard to breathe, hard to move, hard to think. To say it was "overwhelming" would be quite the understatement. And to say that it felt like someone was cutting his arm off with a butter knife; well, that would be a little too close to reality at the moment. He would just have to settle on the pain being too much to stay conscious through and call it even. In fact, just when the light shining in front of his closed eyes began to dim and the rushed, indecipherable voices and beeping machines started fading, one sound cut through it all._

_"Alphonse, I'm so sorry. I'll fix it."_

_His brother's voice echoed in his might for a few more moments until blessed unconsciousness pulled him to rest. Edward was there. He would make it all better._

-----------------------

Al shivered as the unfamiliar memory suddenly surfaced. Where had that come from? He didn't remember ever having to go to a hospital for his arm; before now, at least. The only times he'd gone to a hospital had been so few he could count them on one hand. His mother had tried to keep him and Edward away from activities too dangerous. Izumi had agreed to take them to a hospital if they were mortally wounded. That had never happened. In fact, the only time Al remembered going to a hospital for something serious had been for the accident. But he didn't remember much about that night, and probably for a good reason. Edward never talked about it, and it seemed like such a sore subject that Al didn't want to know about it.

But as he looked at his right arm and how the coloration differed from the hollow of his shoulder to the rest of his arm, he couldn't help but wonder. Could that have some connection to Edward's metal arm?

-----------------------

_The scent of burning flesh filled Edward's nose. It would have made him gag if the sudden pain in his leg wasn't so arresting. For a moment, he forgot to breathe. He'd refused any pain medication so he felt the full brunt of the cauterization. And if the enormity and reality of the situation of having his lower thigh melted to a stub wasn't enough, to add the pain and the smell was enough to make his blond head spin._

_He hazarded a vague, blurry-eyed look across the hallway and saw that the rushing around in his mother's emergency operation room had decreased. In fact, the traffic of peoplehad stopped completely. It did not bode well to Edward. Trying to clear his vision, he blinked a couple times. What he managed to see was not what he wanted._

_A nurse with very light brown hair was arguing with a stern-faced doctor. The doctor looked up at a clock then began writing in a folder. The nurse continued to argue some point or other until the doctor finally yelled at her, gesturing to something further in the room. Thanks to another wave of blinding pain in his leg, things blurred again for Edward. He gritted his teeth so hard; he was surprised none of them cracked. He tried to see what was in the room again._

_His vision started dimming and he began to feel numb. He squinted until he saw the nurses pulling a white sheet over a gurney bed. If that didn't tell Edward what had happened, then the overwhelming feeling of loss was more than enough._

_As consciousness started to seep into blackness, Edward knew he'd failed. His mother was dead, and his attempt to save her had been futile._

-----------------------

Edward woke abruptly to the feeling of someone tapping his shoulder. He sucked in a breath sharply in surprise at first. When he saw it was only Winry, he sat back against the chair. "Hey, Winry," he mumbled, scratching his neck.

"You okay?" she asked, sitting next to him. She kept her hand on his shoulder.

He nodded vaguely. "I guess," he said, now rubbing his eyes with his left hand. Images from his nightmare, from his past, were still burned in his eyes.

"How's Al?" Winry sounded genuinely concerned and for some reason, it soothed Ed to know he wasn't the only one who cared about his brother.

"I don't know; I've been asleep." Ed looked around groggily for a clock. "What time is it?"

Winry checked her watch. "One-thirty," she said softly.

Edward leaned forward again and dropped his face to his hands. "Aw, God," he grumbled, tangling his fingers in his bangs. He felt Winry begin to rub his back gently. How could she be so freaking casual after what she'd told him? He stole a look at her from the corner of his gaze. She looked a little thoughtful as she stared off down an empty corridor. He assumed she was thinking very hard about something because she continued to absently drag her fingers over his back. So maybe she was bothered by something; it could have been the fact Al was just down the hall having God knew what done to him, not that she'd confessed love for Edward. He knew he was bothered by both, but more so about his brother now, considering the bullet in Al's shoulder was from Edward's gun.

Why had Al even been at the club in the first place? He didn't like crowded places that much, and the nightclub had been anything but empty before Edward had revealed he had a gun. And last he'd known of his brother, Al had been calling between college classes to check in. The college campus building was clear across Central. It had to have been a rather important reason for Al to show up at the nightclub. But what could have been so important that he'd been shot in the shoulder? The two men had a secure system of what they deemed important to each other and individually. Individual incidents were shared when convenient, and earlier had _not_ been convenient for either of them. So it had obviously been some vital piece of information. But what? What was so important that Al had rushed across Central?

"Edward?"

He looked at Winry. "Yeah?" She'd stopped rubbing his back, but still had her fingers over his right shoulder where his automail was attached.

"You should have a doctor look at your face," she said softly. "You have a couple cuts that look a little deep."

Edward rolled his eyes. "I don't care about my face," he grumbled crossly. "It'll heal on its own. What won't heal on its own is Al's shoulder." He turned his gaze back towards the floor.

Winry shifted beside him. He felt a new energy from her; urgency, frustration? "I do. Please Edward?" She reached out to touch his cheek, just below a cut that was throbbing a little if he thought about it. That would leave a scar.

Debating whether to listen to Winry or not, he turned his face away from her hand and looked down a busy hall. It didn't matter by whom, Edward didn't like a lot of touch; physical contact of most kinds disturbed him. And since it had been a long day, someone touching his face was probably too much for him. "They'd have to sedate me first," he mumbled darkly. He didn't expect or even want a response from Winry so he stood up. He would get some coffee to calm his very shot nerves. "You want a drink, Win?" he asked, digging in his pockets for his wallet.

Then she stood up as well. And the way she stood up just did not seem like it divined much happiness. "No. But I want something else," she said, sounding a little vexed. Okay, so maybe _a little_ was understating it, but Edward was trying to look on the bright side, he really was! He just wasn't doing a very good job of it at the moment. "Do you want to know what I want?"

Edward shuddered. God only knew what the woman had to say. "Not really, but I have a feeling you're going to tell me anyway." He tried to sound casual, like it didn't bother him that she was probably about to kill him. So he looked over his shoulder in a bored manner.

She seethed at that. Oops. "Exactly the opposite of that, Edward Elric!" Winry exclaimed a little on the loud side. A few eyes turned towards them. "I'm tired of you being so bipolar towards me!" He turned and gave her a flustered look. "Like tonight! You take me on a date, and then you suddenly start treating me like just another person on the street! Now, I'm feeling ice from you. And I'm tired of that because I don't ever know what to expect from you!" She glared at him, managing a hurt look. And, oh God, were those tears forming in her eyes? He was pretty sure they were; her cheeks were turning a little red and her eyes were swelling. Great.

Edward didn't quite have a response for her. He never had a response for anything when it dealt with how he felt. He rarely talked about his feelings. If he ever did, which again, was rare, it was to Alphonse. But he usually talked to himself or recorded it in his journal. So when a triage nurse came up to them, looking a little taken aback, Ed was grateful.

"Are you Edward Elric?" the young woman asked. She looked very familiar to Ed. He had a slight idea where he'd seen her before, but wasn't sure…

He nodded, though. "Yeah, that's me." He shoved his hands in his pockets when the woman extended her hand. "I'm not here for casualties. How's my brother?"

The woman cleared her throat. "Yes. He's just fine. The surgery on his shoulder was minor and—"

Ed choked. "Surgery? Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"You were asleep, and quite frankly, you slept like the dead," she chuckled a little. Ed gave her a bored, impatient look. "Well," she cleared her throat again, "We removed the bullet successfully and wrapped his shoulder. He'll have to stay for the rest of the night for observation, though, since he is still under the anesthetic."

"Can I see him?" Edward took a step forward. If she wouldn't let him as a civilian, he could always pull out his badge and plead his brother knew something about the case he was investigating. He had a feeling Al did know something, so he wouldn't be completely lying. But the triage nurse stepped aside and gestured down the hall.

"He's being transferred from the ER to Recovery right now, so follow me." The woman started down the hallway.

Edward shook his head. "I know where it's at well enough, thanks," he told her. He grabbed Winry's hand and went down the hallway without the triage nurse.

The walk seemed to take forever. Sure, it was sort of a long way to recovery from the ER, but Ed didn't remember it being this long. It was probably because Winry's words were still in his head. Was he really bipolar only towards her? If he was, it was probably because he was fighting his inner feelings…he didn't want to be in love with her! He freaking couldn't! It was just unethical. How many cases for someone being sued over that had happened in the past? Too many, and Edward didn't want to be another statistic for that.

He was her bodyguard, not her boyfriend. There was a very big difference there. Though there were of the same letters, there weren't enough to make them similar. He wouldn't let himself be anymore than that.

"Edward?"

He almost cringed for some reason. Maybe he was successfully falling out of love…. "Yes?" he replied softly.

"You passed up Recovery," Winry reminded him.

He rolled his eyes and turned around. When he did, he forgot that she was directly behind him. So he was now standing mere inches away from Winry. He could actually feel her body heat. "Sorry," he mumbled and tried to step around her. He saw her lift her hand and reach for his shoulder, but then decided not to in mid-movement. Why was she such a touchy person?

The hallway wasn't that far behind them so he walked down the way to the nurse's station. Ed leaned on the counter to gain the women's attention. When one looked up at him, he asked, "Has Alphonse Elric been transferred yet?"

The woman laughed. "It's usually the other way around; people ask where and when someone was transferred, not if they have already been transferred," she said.

Ed started to count in his head. "Has he been transferred yet?" he asked evenly. He managed to sound indifferent, though. At least the woman started checking her papers.

"Not yet, but he will be in room 347 in just a couple minutes," she said, pointing down a hallway. Edward nodded and headed down towards the room the woman had gestured to, but she called after him. "You can't go in yet. You'll have to wait until he's in there and stabilized. So, if you'll have a seat in the waiting area..." She pointed down the opposite hallway.

Ed growled. "No, I'll wait outside his room, thanks," he replied in a snippy manner, daring her to challenge him. He had a reputation at this hospital; hardly any of the nurses fondly remembered him. When he'd been stuck in the hospital, he'd been very angry at everyone. Except Al. So, it was only plausible most people felt his wrath if they bothered him overmuch.

"Fine, go ahead," the nurse said. "But stay out of the way, Mr. Elric."

Ed smirked at her behind his bangs and pulled Winry behind him. He started down the hallway quickly, but slowed his pace a bit when they were at room 340. He was suddenly very self-conscious and it bothered him. As they went further down the hall, the lights dimmed until it varied to every other light being on.

At room 346, Ed stopped. He slowly turned to look at Winry. It might have bothered him any other time that he had to look up a little to see her eyes well, but not now. He felt too serious, too conscious of his movements.

"Yeah?" she said, some of her anger and frustration still with her voice.

Edward let go of her hand and rubbed his neck. "This is seriously going to support your claim on my bipolar attitude, but let me try to explain. But first, Winry?" He waited until she looked at him. "I'm not good at expressing myself with words. So...just bear with me." Winry leaned against he wall expectantly. He took a deep breath. Then he let it out slowly, unsure of where to begin now. He'd set himself up for the jump, but didn't have everything just right to step off the edge. When he looked in her eyes, he realized he'd already taken the plunge and was waiting for the impact.

"I'm confused," he began slowly, "about a lot of things. So, just cut me some slack for a couple days, okay?" She gave him a look that clearly said she wasn't impressed. He let out another strained sigh and put his metal hand against the wall beside Winry's head. It took him a moment to regain himself. "These past few hours have been very stressful; this entire week, actually! My brother got shot, with a bullet from _my_ gun after I saw someone change their freaking shape right in front of me, had the same guy treat me like a rag doll, and then you told me that you loved me!" His fingers tensed up on his right hand with little metallic clicks. "I know it's frustrating to you for me to be, as you said, bipolar, but right now, I can't help it!" He took a deep breath to try to steady himself. "This hospital holds a lot of bad memories for me, so I'm trying to get over them, too." Ed grumbled to himself for a moment about feelings. Then he changed the subject; no use getting into _that_ if he didn't need to. "I care for you, Winry, I really do, okay? Not only because I'm your bodyguard. And you're different from how I had imagined you to be a few weeks ago. But, we just can't happen, okay? It just won't work well."

Winry was silent for a moment. "You're afraid," she stated quietly.

Ed narrowed his eyes. "I'm not—"

"Yes, you are, Edward. I don't know why you're afraid. I know there's a story behind your metal limbs, and I think that has something to do with it." She looked at him sternly. He returned her gaze with a little less force.

"Winry, I just don't know, okay?" He moved away. "Just...let me get through this night, okay? Then we'll talk." Right as Edward finished talking, the attendants moving Al started to come down the hallway.

"Excuse us!" one of them said when they came close to Ed and Winry.

Edward moved forward to make room for his brother's gurney. But in doing so, he tripped on the toe of his boot and fell towards Winry. Thinking quickly, he slapped both hands against the wall on either side of her head to catch himself. He saw Winry flinch and keep her eyes closed. "Winry," he whispered so she would open her eyes. He wasn't sure if he wanted her to do that, actually, since he was only about two inches away from her face. But it was too late now. Her eyes slowly opened. Then she took a deep breath.

"Edward," she looked straight into his eyes like she was trying to memorize their color. That was all fine and dandy. When the gurney passed by, Edward flicked his eyes to the side to try to see Al. When he looked back at Winry, he saw her focus on his eyes again and look deeper, like she was trying to see inside him. That just wouldn't do. So he shook his head and leaned closer to her.

"You don't want to know me, Winry," he whispered, close to her mouth. "Trust me."

He knew it was a bad idea to kiss her right now, that it would really throw things off. He knew that it would probably confuse her even more, make her even more upset at him, but he did it anyway. Edward lightly touched his lips to Winry's very briefly. He looked down at her to see a little bit of a startled expression in her eyes, but not so much that he would back away. She was about to whisper his name when he pressed his mouth against hers again, longer this time. He kept his eyes open to watch her, to see her reaction, to see if this was what he wanted. Her lips trembled beneath his and her eyes fluttered shut. He could almost hear her heart picking up a fast pace.

In that moment Edward knew he was lost and he couldn't do a thing about it. He didn't want to be; he didn't want to be in love again. It only meant his heart being broken again. But there was nothing he could do now. It was becoming hard to fight these feelings that were advancing on his poor, defenseless heart. He knew he was only making it worse by kissing Winry as he was now, but he couldn't help it. It had just been in the moment to happen, like it had been written in his destiny to happen.

But when Winry reached her hand up slowly to touch his cheek, he pulled away abruptly. He didn't know why; maybe the sudden action had surprised him or it was a subconscious thing, but it was too late now. Edward looked at Winry and saw her with another confused look on her face. But then she focused on him and that confused look disappeared. She smiled a little.

"Go see your brother," she said softly. "I'll wait out here for you, unless you want me to come with you."

What was this? He was the one confused now! He had been expecting her to yell at him again, like she had earlier, because he was being 'bipolar.' But she just calmly told him to go, like he hadn't just switched from romantic mode to self-defense mode in a quarter of a second. Maybe she was beginning to understand what he'd told her?

"All right. I won't be long," he found himself saying. Edward turned around, feeling a little light-headed and flustered as he went into room 347. He would think Winry was losing her mind, but he wasn't too sure on his own sanity either. So he didn't have much room to say much.

-------------------------

Winry waited until the door shut and Edward was gone before she let her small smile burst into a full-blown, sunny grin. She leaned her head back against the wall and shut her eyes. A bit of a chuckle escaped before she chewed her bottom lip gently. She could still taste Edward's kiss. And what a taste it was... A little sweet, but mostly something she couldn't identify, just like the man. He was sweet sometimes, but there was just something about him that she just couldn't figure out, something so alluring that she couldn't leave it be. He was charismatic, but that wasn't the thing that drew her to him. There was something more, something so much deeper.

It was his past...that dark past he never let out and the heavy feelings he kept inside him. Even though she knew it was probably a morbid story, she was drawn to it. She wanted to know his past.

Another chuckle escaped her lips. To her, Edward was a disaster, a lawsuit waiting to happen with his spastic moments, his impulsive behavior, and his explosive personality, simply a disaster. But he was a beautiful disaster.


	14. What It Is To Burn

**Disclaimer: I do not own Full Metal Alchemist. If you have any questions regarding this situation, please see the disclaimer from the previous chapter. Thank you.**

Author's note: Gomenasai! I meant to update on Sunday. But, I wasn't happy with the ending. And, to quote the wonderful Mort Rainey (Secret Window), "No...bad...writing. -hits delete key-" So, yeah...I saved the alt. ending, though, so check out the note at the end for more details. But, here it is! With angst! Yay, angst!

Advertisement: Shura's gonna update soon (-nudge nudge-) for her Muses O'Doom ficcy. Reeeaaally lookin' forward to it. That is the funniest story, go read it everyone! And all her other stuff if you love Scar-san. :) Then I finally edited Asha's chapter and she updated. It's an early EdWin, while Edo gets his automail. Really funny, with some angst in there, too. Cannot have a story w/o angst. Isis has updated twice, and I haven't read it yet. (Gomen!) Then, if you like Phantom of the Opera of the Rings, read Meluivan Indil's stories. :) Okay...that's all. You can read my chapter now, if you didn't skip this already. haha

Chapter 14: What It Is To Burn (or No Pain)

Edward yanked the key out of the lock, probably with a bit more force than needed, but it was cold outside! In the same jerky manner, Ed turned the handle and threw his shoulder into the door to unjam it. "The doctor said he would be find in a couple—What?" He looked at Winry curiously since she was tapping his arm. It took him a moment to turn around since he'd been locking the door back. But when he did look at his living room, he swore visciously. He suspected Winry would have scolded him for _that_ word if she hadn't been feeling as shocked as he was suddenly angry.

As he surveyed the room before him, Ed began wondering just how it had happened. His living room was in shambles! Books were scarttered on the floor everywhere; the couch cushions were thrown around the room; the recliner was tipped; the TV moved to the floor as if it had been in the process of being stolen, but promptly forgotten about. When he further surveyed the room, Edward noticed his safes behind "books" had been cracked open beyond manual repair. Doubtless, the items were stolen or strewn in various odd places around the room. All-in-all, it looked like someone had broken into his house and not bothered to kindly clean up when they had finished stealing his stuff. How rude.

"Stay here, Winry," he told her. He pulled off his thick gloves and clapped his hands to trigger his alchemy. He touched his knuckles on his right hand and transmuted them to a spike point. He was now ready to defend himself. But what about Winry? He turned to look at her. "If you see something or someone, don't scream or anything - you get out of the house." He flicked the lock on the door again so she could get away quicker. "Go next door and hide in the bushes."

"But what about—"

"I can take care of myself," he snapped. Then he took a deep breath to calm himself. "If something happened to you..." He shook his head. If something happened to her, he'd blame himself. Then he'd never hear the end of it at work. Respectfully, of course. Mustang had a way to remind him of his failures in a polite, very Mustang way.

But Winry smiled at him a little. Ed turned around to go down the hall, rolling his eyes to himself, but her voice stopped him from going further than two steps. "Edward," she said softly. He turned to look at her again. There was a pause between their words, but finally, she mouthed, "I love you," to him.

He blinked a couple times before making a manly noise at her. Love him, she might at the moment, but he didn't want to wonder how she would feel after the entire ordeal was settled and her life was no longer in danger. Once the threat to her life was gone, that feeling of safety she had around him would likely disappear.

Yes, he had thought of a solution. She didn't love him, really. She thought she did, but she didn't. It was only the aforementioned feeling of safety that made her believe she loved him, nothing else. And once this was all over, Edward would go back to living how he used to, without the unfamiliar, strange emotions and work being his everything.

Such a pitiful life he led.

--------------------

About an hour later, Edward was sitting in the kitchen, stirring noodles on the stove. Winry was perched at the island, on a barstool, sifting through some of his broken or damaged items. It had taken him about thirty minutes to investigate the house to his satisfaction, twenty to clean up a little, and about ten for Winry to convince him to make noodles for a very late dinner or a very early breakfast. Either one.

He scowled down into the pot, muttering curses about cooking and the fact that someone had broken into and trashed his house. And, here he was, a cop! And someone had dared to do the like. But strangely enough—

"—nothing was stolen?"

Edward shook his head and turned off the burner when the water began to boil. Winry had been talking, hadn't she? "What?"

She rolled her eyes and ran her finger along a little item he'd transmuted when he was much younger. "I said, are you sure nothing was stolen?" she repeated.

He nodded and drained some of the juice out, then placed the pot back on the stove. "Yes. That's why there are no other police here," he replied.

"Other police?" She winked at him.

With a slight chuckle, Ed pulled his badge out of his pocket. "You would forget me?" He feigned hurt. There he went, flirting again, when he knew he shouldn't lead her on.

She laughed at him. "Never," she promised, giving him her famous smile. That was all fine and dandy, her smiling at him, regardless that it had been a rough night for them both, but what scared Ed was her eyes and the expression he saw there. It was...love?

No...she really couldn't love him, could she? Sometime soon, he had to sit her down and tell her that what she was feeling wasn't love. He had actually introduced her to what was really going on, and because she was facing the reality of the moment, that someone really was after her, it was only a feeling of strong adoration. But even that was pushing the lines of what Ed was comfortable with.

No, she wasn't feeling love, really.

In fact, it surprised him that she could even admire him to the point where she could even think she loved him.

"Edward?" Her calm, serene voice broke through his dark thoughts.

It took him a moment to keep from snapping at her. It was a subconscious habit he'd formed and learned that, on more than one occasion, she took personally. But in his hesitation to answer, he saw her reach out to touch his hand. They realized at the same time that she had touched his metal hand, still ungloved. Edward pulled his hand back gently and continued his efforts for a pitiful meal. Then a slight bit of remorse dared to creep up on him, but he ruthlessly shoved it away, just like most other emotions he felt.

Five minutes later, Edward was shoving a bowl into Winry's hands. His noodles were still in the pot. His appetite had diminished from his previous thoughts. And since eating was out of the question, he was going to the next best thing—smoking. He fingered the pack in his pants pocket gingerly. Lately, he'd been stressed out enough to make use of his metabolism and eat until he felt better. Or he terrorized his lungs with cigarette smoke until the tension reduced. There was a third option, but he would not take that one. He could actually sit down and talk with Winry, but who knew where that would lead? He would either end up fussing and ranting about something or it would go into something romantic and no words would be spoken. But since he was very frustrated at everything, if he kissed her now, he would probably receive complaints. He had been told he wasn't the gentlest kisser when he was angry. Gentleness was what Winry needed in her life, not an angry cop.

So, taking his idea of smoking and running with it, Ed started toward the back door. He would have made it out, had _her_ voice not stopped him.

"Edward..." He only halted because Winry sounded so pitiful and helpless. It snagged his heart so terribly, he could literally feel the hook taking hold of him. After it was all said and done, would he be able to go free, no strings attached?

God, he hoped so. He didn't want to be in love, he didn't want to have more old ghosts and skeletons in his closet jumping out at bad, random intervals. But he had a feeling that was exactly what would happen if he turned around and went back to her. He also knew what would happen if he kept going. To have her love him or to have her hate him? The decision was hard to make.

Edward turned around and looked at Winry. What he saw in her eyes now was something he hadn't expected. He had expected frustration, or hurt - he could have dealt with those. He could have argued with her if she was frustrated, or walked away if she felt hurt. But he was totally unprepared with a reaction for what he saw.

There was fear in her eyes, genuine fear.

With a distressed sigh, he walked over to her again. "Winry..." Hesitantly, he put his hands on her shoulders.

"I'm so scared, Edward," she whispered coarsely, sniffling a little. Oh, God...she was starting to cry.

"Winry, I...I'm doing my best to keep you safe," he told her truthfully.

She pulled him closer and pressed her face to his chest. "I know, but...what happened to Al..." She trailed off. "I'm just so scared now. I know they're out there, and how close one had been to me."

_Why_ did he have to deal with tears? Or at least why couldn't he have possessed a few more wits to comfort the woman in his arms. Edward racked his brain for some way to deal with her. Then, inspiration hit! He held her back at arm's length. "I'm doing all I can, Winry. But I just need a few minutes to think, okay? You're safe here." Safe there? Someone had just broken into his house, and was telling her she was safe? Hah? "I'm just going to go outside for a minute," he said softly.

Winry looked up at him with teary eyes. She looked to be controlling her emotions now. "All right." She swiped her fingers under her eyes. "Sorry I went off like that," she apologized.

Edward smiled at her understandingly. "It's okay, Winry," he told her. Then, very hesitantly, he lifted his left hand to her cheek. "Just...don't do that again, okay?"

She used her sleeve to wipe away the remaining tears. "I'll try," she said, halfway laughing, halfway crying still.

Nodding to himself, Edward fingered the cigarettes in his pocket again. He did that for a different reason this time. He smelled moisture in the air, and that wasn't a good thing. The heater had kicked on, so it was melting the snow on top of the system outside. That moisture was just enough to trigger the memories. He shut his eyes slowly, but immediately wished he hadn't when he saw the bright lights shining in front of him again. He opened his eyes and tried to appear normal, but Winry was giving him an inquisitive look. Edward shook his head and headed towards the door, muttering to himself.

It was going to be another long day, he could already tell.

------------------------

It was about an hour later when Winry actually left the kitchen. She turned around to survey the room. It was practically gleaming now. That was a strange reaction of hers; if she was feeling sad or upset, she would clean. She almost laughed, ruefully of course, when she realized she had hardly ever cleaned before Edward came into her life. But she didn't want to say Edward upset her _all_ the time. Only sometimes. It's just that...he was so frustrating! And now, with their feelings so close to the surface, they were both on the edge of something. What exactly, Winry didn't know, but it was something.

He'd said she only thought she loved him because he was giving her a feeling of protection. She knew differently. She wasn't really one for believing in love at first sight, but she would have to agree that he'd had her at "hello." Winry hadn't realized it until about a week before when they had gone shopping. Something had just clicked into place for her. It hadn't been some magnificent event in her life, though, that the heavens had opened up, framed Edward in a golden light, and angels had sung. It had been more of moment where she just thought, "Oh, I love him," and that was that. She'd looked at him, smiled, and then thought it. That was all. Nothing big. Just a realization that she was in love.

About half an hour ago, Edward had come inside, smelling like cigarette smoke. He'd stopped on his trek somewhere in the house to talk to her. He'd smiled a few times, but she could tell he was warring with his inner demons again. That far away look had come into his eyes a few times when they'd been talking about Al and the hospital. Winry had moved off of the subject, subtly, when it came up. She didn't want Edward to have to talk about something if he didn't want to. She knew things just didn't work that way for him.

He'd also, in short, explained his "solution" to her. That made her a little mad, but the only way to prove something to someone was with time and patience.

After their short conversation, he'd disappeared, saying he was going to his study to do some work. She'd smiled a little and gone back to cleaning. But now that that she was done cleaning the kitchen, she wanted to talk to Ed. About what, she didn't know, but anything would be good. There were a couple things on her mind that were bothering her, but they weren't things she could just up and say. They were topics that needed to be approached with care and caution. That was just what she hoped to do, maybe.

So, when she stepped into his study, a sigh escaped her lips. Winry shook her head at the sight in front of her. Edward was sitting up in his chair, asleep. His mouth was slightly open and she could hear him making a small snoring sound. She didn't fault him for sleeping at the moment. But it kind of shocked her to see him that way. He looked so relaxed there, like there was nothing wrong in his world, like his brother hadn't just been shot or anything. It surprised her because he was usually so uptight and stressed about something. Winry was impressed he didn't have gray hairs yet. Maybe he dyed his hair? But to see him somewhat peaceful looking was a little strange. Winry hadn't seen him look that way for a couple days.

As she watched him sleep, his head started to tilt forward. He jerked it back with a small snort. It took a second for Winry to suppress the urge to laugh at him. Like as not, he was probably not completely asleep yet after that. When he scratched his stomach with his left hand, that confirmed he was parly awake. She waited until he stopped moving before doing anything. But she couldn't help the small laugh that escaped her. Edward's hand was still over his stomach, holding his shirt up, so Winry had an unobstructed view at most of his abs. She gazed at his rather well-built stomach for a moment longer before walking over to him.

"You'll catch your death if you sleep like that in your house. It's freezing here," she whispered, looking around for a blanket. She came up with a discarded throw that might have been from the couch. When Winry picked it up, a strange feeling came over her. It was hard for her to describe; the closest thing she could come to explaining it was that it gave her chills, like someone was watching her. A soft smell, like a flowery fragrance, drifted up from the quilted material as she draped it over Edward's shoulders. For some reason, she knew the blanket had been his mother's.

Winry looked up at Ed's face. She just couldn't get over how content he looked when he was asleep. He looked so defenseless... Her eyes trailed down to his still slightly ajar mouth. She wondered...what it would be like to kiss him while was asleep. Well, it couldn't hurt for her to kiss him once, could it? So she tilted her head to the side and covered his mouth with hers for a prolonged moment. No response from Edward when she broke the contact. He looked as innocent and helpless as he had a moment before. She laughed a little to herself and began to regain her composure.

When Winry began to move away from him, his voice caught her off guard. "Winry," he whispered. His eyes were still shut. She would have though he'd woken up a little if his mouth hadn't slid open again.

Edward was talking in his sleep. How cute? But he'd said her name. How strange? She was about to say something when his features changed from relaxed to stressed. His eyes shut a little tighter and twitched beneath his eyelids rapidly. He started to murmur in his sleep incoherently.

"Edward," Winry whispered, touching his shoulder. Sweat began to form on his forehead and his breathing quickened. "Edward, wake up."

When he began to thrash a bit more, Winry leaned away. And just in time, too, because the second she'd moved back, his eyes opened wide and he yelled, "No! _Okaa-san_!" Then he winced, shut his eyes tightly, and drew his left knee up towards him. Out of the corner of Winry's eyes, she saw something fall to the floor slowly beneath his chair. But her attention went quickly back to Edward a moment later. He was whimpering quietly and breathing heavily; quite uncharacteristic for him, she thought. Winry watched him open one eye and focus on her. It was mildly disturbing. "Winry," he murmured. "What—"

Let's go in the living room," she interrupted, pretending she'd only just gone in the study, like nothing was wrong. But something was wrong, and it had everything to do with Edward's pride. Right now, however, it was her task, as his almost-girlfriend, to be there for him, especially when he didn't ask.

Winry had expected him to tell her to go a way or something. She was surprised, though, when he pulled the throw out of his lap and went out of his study. Winry ignored the fact that he could have been heading to his room to lock the door. So when he disappeared down the hallway—towards the living room—Winry bent down to pick up the slip of paper she'd seen. What she saw brought a faint smile to her face.

It was a picture of Edward and Alphonse when they were a bit younger, probably when they were about fifteen and sixteen. With them was a youthful looking woman with brown hair a little darker than Al's. She had her arm around Al's waist companionably and her other arm around Edward's neck, since he appeared to be trying to escape. There was a big smile on their faces, despite Edward's choice of poses. Winry could only guess the woman was their mother from the likeness she saw in their faces. Though Al looked more like their mother than Ed did. Winry wondered what their father looked like...

"Winry!" she heard Edward call from the living room so suddenly that she dropped the picture.

Quickly recovering, she caught it in midair and set it on the desk next to some yellowed papers. They caught her attention, but they were none of her business. "Yeah, I'm coming," she yelled distractedly to him, glancing at the papers since she just couldn't help herself. They were letters...from who to whom, she didn't have enough time to read since she'd been walking and craning her neck to see them.

Winry went into the living room, expecting to see Edward glaring and pointing at the kitchen, like most men would. Instead, he wasn't in plain sight. She stood in place for a moment looking around, until she saw him lift his arm from the couch. He waved his hand lazily then dropped it back onto his chest. Winry walked over to the couch and looked down at him. His eyes were closed. A tiny bit of how he had looked earlier was still on his tired features as she gazed down at him, smiling.

When he opened one eye halfway to look at her, he grumbled, "What're you lookin' at?"

She laughed a little. "You're so cute when you're asleep," she teased. "Much quieter, easier to get along with."

He made a noise at her that she took to mean, "If I were fully awake right now, I'd kick your butt, but I'm not so you're lucky." She only laughed at him again. "Are you going to stand there all morning?" he asked, sounding very groggy.

Winry shook her head. "No." She walked around the edge of the couch and stood before him. "Lift your head up," she ordered. Blessedly, Edward was too tired and halfway asleep still so he didn't argue or question her. Winry sat down on the spot where his head had been and relaxed. Once she was situated, she pulled his head back down on her lap. She smiled at him when he cracked open one eye to peer at her. "Your hair is a mess."

"Hn," was his first comment. "Unbraid it, then."

She nodded. "I will. Turn on your side," she said softly.

Edward grumbled a time or four, but eventually managed to be on his side so the back of his head was facing Winry. He continued his mutterings as Winry pulled his hair tie from the bottom of his braid. She was a little puzzled when he waved his hand at her limply. After a moment, she figured out what he meant and put the red band in his hand. Edward's fingers closed over her hand for a moment until he pulled his hair cord away. Winry shivered a little, but went on to gently untangling his braid. After a couple of minutes, she heard him mumble something.

"You're not tenderheaded, are you?" she asked suddenly, hoping he hadn't been cursing at her under his breath.

"A bit," he mumbled tiredly.

She winced. "Sorry. Did I hurt you any?" He shook his head vaguely. "Good." Winry patted his head gently, then started to run her fingers through his hair slowly to get out any tangles. "Edward?" she asked lightly after a few minutes. He might have gone back to sleep, but she was hoping that he was still slightly coherent.

"Hmm?"

Winry paused for a moment, wondering if she should ask. "Was that your mother in that picture you had?" she questioned.

Edward nodded. "Yeah."

"What happened?" She knew she was on unsteady ground now, but maybe she could get some information from him if he was halfway asleep.

"Ow," she heard him mutter. Then she felt him shiver. How could he be cold? He had the throw draped over him.

"What?" 'Ow?' What was that about? She leaned forward to look at him. There was a pecualiar look on his face.

"You scratched my head," he said, sounding a little disgruntled.

Winry sighed. "Sorry," she murmured. Maybe he was more coherent than she thought. He made another noise at her.

"Just go to sleep, Winry. We'll talk in the morning," he whispered, turning on his back. Edward opened his golden eyes and looked up at her.

When she looked down at him, she saw so much in his eyes. She saw the obvious exhaustion from the past few days; confusion; and quite a few other unidentifiable feelings. But something else that caught her was pain. Not just pain from now, but pain from his past. It was so visible, Winry found herself asking, "What happened, Edward?"

He winced now, taken aback by the suddeness of the question. "Don't worry about it, Winry; you don't need to know." Then he shut his eyes and turned on his side again. He shifted so the back of his head was against her stomach.

Winry sighed and watched his head go down with the movement. She would have laughed had she not been so suddenly frustrated. He was so closed-mouthed. It was annoying. Why didn't he talk about himself ever? Why did he always keep to himself? It was unhealthy to keep his feelings all to himself, bottling them up and never letting any out. One day, she knew they were going to explode, tired of being caged up inside him. But she wanted to be there that day, to catch him if he fell, to be the listening ear if he needed to talk. She always wanted to be there for him.

But she couldn't be there for him if he wouldn't tell her anything.

-------------------------

The next morning, Edward woke up around ten. It was kind of late to him, but he'd had a long night. He didn't want to wake up yet; he was too comfortable and warm. So he burrowed deeper into the warmth. He wasn't usually this warm he woke up at Winry's house. What was different? While he pondered that sleepily, he turned his face into the pillow. Then he muttered a curse when the thick seam rubbed his nose wrong. "Stupid pillows," he grumbled, pulling his blanket over his head.

Then he caught himself. Pillows didn't have thick seams, did they? At least, usually not the ones you slept on? Limply, he brought his hand up to whatever he was sleeping on and fingered the material. It felt like denim. Why would his pillow be made of denim? Unless he was sleeping on the couch downstairs?

Opening one eye hesitantly confirmed Edward was definitely on a couch. When he became more aware of where he was, he realized he wasn't at Winry's house. He was in _his _living room, on _his _couch. He should have realized that right off from the slight lumps in the cushions. That was all fine and dandy, he was in his own house for once, but what was he sleeping on? Certainly not a pillow. He didn't have any denim pillows.

So, very slowly, Ed opened his other eye and turned. Then he promptly fell off the couch in shock. Just to make sure he'd been seeing right—since his eyes _had_ been known to play tricks on him in the past—Edward looked up at the couch again. Yup, his eyes were just fine. Now whether that was fortunately or unfortunately, he didn't know.

There, on his couch, Winry was sleeping, slouched in what may have been an uncomfortable position. But she looked perfectly content there, on his slightly lumpy couch, more or less passed out. But, if she functioned on as much sleep as he did, she would probably be waking up within the hour. Edward had no clue how to respond to it. Should he just turn on the TV quietly and watch the news, to see if there was anything intriguing and possibly helpful about his case? Or should he get back on the couch and pretend to sleep until she woke up? That would, in turn, cause him to "wake up," if he'd been asleep. What to do, what to do?

His musings were interrupted when he heard her shivering. Instinctively, Edward looked around and saw the quilted throw his mother had sewn years before. Well, it was better than her freezing in his cold house. So, he got to his feet, the blanket in hand, and stumbled over to the couch. He draped the blanket over her shoulders, telling himself it was in a nonchalant manner, but he couldn't help his sudden self-conscious feeling. He sighed when he stepped away from her. Howhad he managed this? How had he managed to find a nice girl who said she loved him for what she knew of him? And what she knew already turned most girls off. And how was it that when he found her, he couldn't love her?

It just seemed his luck, he thought, as he looked down at her. Edward watched her shift into the warmth of the blanket and sighed. He had a feeling of longing, wishing that he could have been the one she was snuggling against. He didn't even try to push away the knowledge of how pathetic that was. And, as Edward was letting his feelings come to the surface, he took the hard impact that he wanted to be with Winry. What made it worse was that he knew he couldn't. It was the same philosophy as a kid in a toystore - look only. Even touching was questionable. It didn't matter if they saw something they really wanted more than the toy everyone else had, they couldn't have it.

How Edward wished the philosophy was "a kid on Christmas."

Christmas...that was coming up soon. Edward trudged out of the living room, away from Winry, away from the feelings that were threatening to swallow him. He went into the kitchen to look at the calendar. It was November twenty-nineth. Just a few more weeks. Then Edward could count another number on the anniversary list.

With a sigh, he went to the bar and sat down. _What a great time of year_, he thought sarcastically as he brought his elbows up onto the surface. Edward rubbed his face and groaned. So much had happened lately. So much still had yet to happen. And he was tired already? How old was he again? Forty-one? A wry chuckle escaped, surprising himself to the point of looking up. Had it really been that long since he'd laughed to himself? If he didn't recognize his own chuckle, then he guessed it had been _way_too long.

But you couldn't blame Edward. He'd been through a lot in his lifetime...his father leaving when he was at a young age, his mother being diagnosed with that disease, the accident, his mother dying, and now his brother being shot? Of course, that didn't seem like a lot to just count off, but the time spent getting over it more than made up for what may have been lacking that list. And those were not easy things to overcome; if Edward were any younger, he would probably still be depressed about being an orphan. But there were plenty of adult orphans who were just fine living how they were, because they had a family of their own. But Edward? He only had Alphonse, usually. He didn't know if he could call Winry _family_ yet. He didn't know if he wanted to. He didn't even know what he wanted to feel about Winry.

He blew his hair out of his face as he looked up again. His gaze strayed over to the woman of his thoughts. She was still asleep, looking quite content to be there. He envied her the ability to be happy where she was, in whatever circumstances. She most often had a smile on her face, unless she was mad. Then Edward was the one smiling to himself because it was so amusing to see Winry when she was like that. Her reactions to one word were hilarious.

But he knew she had a story. He'd heard part of it a few weeks ago. Edward knew her father was dead; he didn't know about her mother. Regardless, she had a dark past, too. She knew what it was to burn, to feel the harsh emotions of losing a parent. It didn't matter what age, it was always hard. There was never an age where it was simpler to deal with, never. The bracing reality of knowing that person was gone forever was rough, and always hit when it was least convenient.

Yeah, she knew what it felt like. She'd felt the inevitable pain that came with life. But she managed to smile despite it. Edward admired her for that talent.

"Edward?" Her soft, sleep-filled voice caressed Edward's ears gently, causing him to shiver a little, even though he was quite warm in the kitchen.

"Yeah, Win?" He turned his gaze to the living room, probably with the remainder of his thoughts on his features still. He didn't care. He'd promised her a conversation; she deserved some answers now. When Edward looked at her, he was amazed in too many ways to count. He didn't know why, he just was.

He watched her stretch her arms out slowly. "Good morning," she said after a minute. Then she smiled at him.

Here was someone who knew what it was to burn. Yet she could still smile like she had no pain.

----------------------------

**Yeah...I really recommend the song "What is it to Burn" by Finch. If you're sensitive to screamers, though, you may not like it. It isn't really bad, but if you're sensitive, you're sensitive! lol But if nothing else, check out the lyrics; they made me rewrite this chapter. Check out my livejournal for the original, alternate ending.It'll be up there, along with what I did in California. Link is in my profile. Anyway...peace...lurve...reviews.**


	15. I'll Stand By You

**Disclaimer: Don't own FMA. Nor do I own "I'll Stand by You." Credit goes to The Pretenders.**

Author's Note: This chapter is shorter, I know! But I was busy and hada depression strike. >. And it's funny, I'm kinda going through the same thingas Ed and Winry here, with their funny little "Must develop trust" relationship...yeah, long story, stay tuned in the LJ for more details.

Chapter 15: I'll Stand By You

Edward smiled at her when she walked into the kitchen. It was a half-hearted smile, but still a smile. Since she was female, she'd appreciate it. But since she was Winry, and she almost knew what he was going through, she was astounded. Once he told her a few things he was going through, she'd be speechless. With a serious appreciative feeling, she smiled back at him through her bleary eyes.

"Morning, Edward."

He kicked out the chair opposite him at the island. "Morning," he mumbled. If possible, he looked even more tired than she was after first waking up.

Winry scratched her head a bit as she sat down. The awkward silence that wasn't so awkward to them settled in the kitchen. She looked around the room, waiting for him to say something. Even to her groggy mind, she knew Edward wanted to say something serious. If she wanted to hear it, then she would have to wait. Asking him would frustrate and fluster him, causing him to blow off the opportunity he'd given himself. She knew more about him than he thought. But there was just that one little thing about him that she was dying to know: his past. And Winry had a feeling that what he wanted to say was about that. If she hadn't been still tired, she would have been beside herself and on the edge of her bar stool with anticipation.

About five minutes into the silence, she was feeling a little more awake. She'd found where the coffee pot was, and probably where coffee grounds were kept. It sounded like a very good idea. So Winry looked at Edward and set herself to get up. "You want me to make some coffee?" she asked.

He seemed to immediately snap out of a trance of staring at the refrigerator when she spoke. He thought for a moment, processing what she'd said, before answering. "No. Winry," he said softly, leaning forward on his elbows. He tangled his fingers in his unbraided hair. He was stalling for time, she realized, as he pulled his golden locks back into a ponytail. Winry smiled a little when she remembered how his hair felt between her fingers.

"Yes, Edward?" she said patiently. She didn't sound like she was dying to know what he had to say, nor did she sound like she was completely uninterested. Her voice was the soft tone that merely spoke of wanting to be there to help, if he wanted it, to listen if he wanted to talk. And to top it off, she smiled gently at him, subconsciously telling him that things were okay, that they would be okay.

He looked at her a moment later. He looked less stressed, like he'd just won an inner battle with himself and he was ready to take what was his and run with it. "Let's talk," he said finally.

Winry couldn't have been more thrilled to hear those two words. So she nodded, not saying anything. Then she waited. What was she waiting for? She was waiting for him to say something, anything else. He seemed at a sudden loss for words. Then a half smile came over his face.

"That coffee does sound good," he said. Behind the façade of his smile, though, Winry saw the disappointment in himself that he couldn't talk to her.

She was disappointed, too, but there was only so much she could do to help him talk. Refusing to do anything until he talked wasn't one of them. So, she slid off the bar stool and went over to the coffee pot. She didn't usually drink coffee as she was more opt for tea, but people told Winry that she made the best coffee. It was just one of those ironic things that she was good at something she didn't like that much. But that's usually how things worked, right?

In about ten minutes, Winry and Edward were sitting opposite each other again. There was a mug of steaming coffee in his hands, and a mug of steaming tea in hers. It was really killing her to just sit, trying to be patient while he worded his phrases. It honestly couldn't take _that_ long to sort his thoughts out, could it? Or, who knows? Since this was Edward she was thinking about, he could take a week and still not have things in order.

"Edward," she said softly, tracing her finger along the edge of her mug.

He nodded. "Okay." His voice was a little more sure, now, of what he was going to say. He looked at her seriously. "My mother died," he stated.

Winry nodded. "I'm sorry," she replied, not positive of what a good response would be. She waited for him to continue. He looked to be warring inwardly again.

"It, ah, happened when I was eighteen. She was sick." He nodded to himself and mumbled the phrase under his breath again. "But, that isn't what killed her." Edward took a deep breath like he was going to tell her what happened. "My dad walked out when I was six. I haven't heard from him since, so I don't know if he's dead or alive." He laughed a little ironically. "Frankly, I don't particularly care, either." He lifted his metal hand and ran it down his hair. He looked to be finished with his very short monologue. But she never knew what to expect with Edward.

"What about your metal limbs?" she asked. She was especially curious about that story.

He shook his head. "Another day," he said, sipping his coffee. He set down the mug and sighed. "I hate my dad. I don't remember him, but I hate him. He left, and that's why my mom died. The doctors said it was some form of cancer, but she died of a broken heart." He clenched his hands tightly on the mug. Winry was afraid it was going to crack, but then the phone rang. She watched him flinch in surprise. Where was the phone, anyway? Winry hadn't located it earlier.

Edward growled and slid off the bar stool. Then he walked over to part of the counter that was buried in newspapers. He looked to be a little regretful as he tossed the papers to the side and unearthed the cordless phone.

"Hello," he said curtly.

Winry took this as her cue to zone out. But, no matter how hard she tried to not listen to him, she couldn't focus on something else. So she stared out of the window over the sink and took in his words.

"He's in the hospital. No, I don't know when he'll be released." With ever word, his tone was becoming more and more aggravated. "Yes, I mind if you ask; what happened was none of your business. I'll have him call when he is out, whenever that is." Promptly, Edward hung up the phone. Winry sighed to herself.

He was so uptight all of the time. Why couldn't he just take five minutes to breathe, to figure things out? If he just had a good conversation with himself, and maybe even a good cry, maybe he wouldn't be so stressed all of the time. Or if he would just talk to someone, really talk to someone about the things that had happened in his life, some of the burdens would be lifted from his shoulders. Winry could see them. He carried the weight of his mother's death on his shoulders. Maybe he thought that there was something he could have done to keep her from dying? Or maybe he felt responsible for some aspect of her death.

Whatever it was, it certainly chained Edward down.

"Winry?" His slightly miserable voice brought her from her pondering.

She looked at him. He was over at the sliding doors with his forearms against the glass. His head was in his hands, and he was looking at the ground. "Yes, Edward?" He truly looked pitiful. He didn't just need to talk, to cry, or anything. He also needed a hug.

He sighed, and his entire body moved with the action. "I don't want to talk anymore," he said, like it really mattered to her what he did, like she had control over him.

She slid off the bar stool as well. Slowly, she made her way over to him. "Then don't," she murmured when she came up behind him. Hesitantly, she wrapped her arms around his waist. There really wasn't much to the man, physically. He was short and lean, but well-muscled. However, he more than made up for his slight self in the issues he carried around.

Winry felt him stiffen in her arms. In response, she merely rested her cheek on his back. "Edward," she whispered, "just let go." He was thinking; she could practically hear his thoughts.

"I'm afraid," he began, "if I do, I'll do something I'll regret." His voice was low and careful. He really was scared of what might happen.

She squeezed him gently. "I'll still love you, Edward, no matter what. I'll stand by you, even though you probably don't want me to. I promise." She smiled to herself, now that she had finally gotten those words out, the words she'd been wanting to tell him for so long.

Edward put his hands over hers and pulled her arms from his waist. Winry was about to sigh in disappointment that she hadn't been able to get through to him when he turned around and replaced her arms around his middle again. Before she could look at him, he had pulled her against him tightly. He was shaking a little, but Winry pretended she didn't notice. Or maybe she should?

Slowly, she rubbed his back. "Edward," she whispered, brushing her cheek against his. She wanted to look at him, to see his face when she told him she loved him again.

Once more, he beat her to the punch of an action. "You don't want to know me, Winry, you really don't," he breathed against her ear.

She rolled her eyes to herself. Then she moved her mouth next to his ear. "Stop telling me what I want and just kiss me," she whispered.

There was a pause, the two second silence before the collision. Then there was a shuddering crash as his mouth came down upon hers firmly. Winry shivered when his hand went to the back of her head and into her hair. It was probably one of the most world-shattering moments she had experienced to date to have this man kiss her now, like he was. He was forceful, yet gentle; urgent, but patient. He was a contradiction of himself, really.

When he turned so her back was against the wall, Edward changed the depth of the kiss. He slid his tongue between her lips, causing a shudder to claim her momentarily. She felt him smile a little against her mouth at her reaction. Winry had never really been kissed like that, so it was only all right that she was a little surprised. Especially surprised, she thought, when she could suddenly taste him more than she had a moment ago.

She let him kiss her for she didn't know how long. The feel of his tongue touching hers was so different that she couldn't think in a straight line, much less judge how much time had passed. She started to realize, though, that Edward was slowly becoming less and less gentle with the kiss. At first it had started out as a mind-numbing event. Now she could feel his fingertips on her shoulders, pressing down hard enough to possibly leave a faint mark. So she tried to pull her head back from his gently, but he didn't seem to realize what he was doing.

Winry was halfway grateful when the phone rang again. Edward tore away from her with a curse. His face was turned to the side and facing the floor. He was breathing heavily. She could understand why! She was at a loss for breath, as well, after that. Then he looked at her. There was a slight dazed expression in his eyes as he took in her expression. There must have been a bit of fear, or hesitance in her eyes because he swore again.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked. It almost took all Winry had to shake her head. In reality, her lips were tingling and her head was spinning. She was pretty sure that she might have a little bruise or more on her shoulders from his fingers, but she wouldn't tell him that. He had enough that he seemed to hate himself for; why add to the pile when she was trying to save him?

The phone continued to ring. Edward kept his eyes fixed on Winry, as if he was expecting her to suddenly burst out into tears, proclaiming she hated him and never wanted to see him again. Actually, quite the contrary. She was sure a smile was about to slide onto her face and the love she felt was blossoming more that he was able to show her a different side of him. So, with a shaky hand, she touched her fingers to his cheek softly and leaned forward to touch her lips to his again.

"Answer your phone," she said with a half smile.

Ed looked a little confused, but he reached over to the bar and picked up the handset. "Yeah?" She watched him step away, listening to the person on the other end. A brief look of excitement had crossed over his features. But it had quickly dwindled back to his impassive mask. He nodded to himself occasionally, making noises of confirmation to whomever he was speaking. "All right, I'll be there," he said then hung up. He set the phone down and remained motionless for all of five seconds. Then he swore loudly and rather savagely. Winry didn't think to correct him. He was obviously pissed off at something now.

She followed him with her eyes as he went into the living room and sat on the couch. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands for a few seconds, then sat back against the couch again. His head tilted back on the edge and he shut his eyes. Winry wondered what it was that plagued him now. The poor thing was having a rough morning. Hesitantly, she stepped into the living room and stood beside him.

"Edward?" she asked softly.

He grunted at her. "Give me a minute," he mumbled. Then he patted the spot on the couch next to him.

Winry thought a moment - not that she didn't want to sit next to him, she did, but it just seemed like she should be a little hesitant at the moment. After all, they had just shared a mind-numbing, world-smattering kiss, and he seemed to be a little on the edgy side at the moment. Yeah, she had a bit of a right be a little wary. But, she sat down next to him anyway. It was obvious she was tense. Even Edward sensed it and lifted his hand to her shoulder.

She peeked over at him. He looked so ridiculous, leaning his head on the couch back, eyes closed, and mouth slightly open. Occasionally, his eyes would twitch, like he was dreaming. But she knew he was very much awake still. His breathing was steadily becoming louder and heavier. In fact, it was much like his breathing when he'd been having his night terrors.

"Edward?" she asked again, placing her hand on his knee. Then she took her hand back when she felt the metal there. A shiver went through her. Not knowing his past, the reason behind those odd metal limbs, was absolute torture.

He opened his eyes slowly, taking in a deep breath. Then he turned his head to look at her. "Sorry," he murmured. He put his arm around her shoulders lightly.

"Who was on the phone?" she asked softly, leaning her head onto his arm.

Edward sighed. "The hospital. Al's awake, finally, and slightly coherent. They want me to come down within the hour," he mumbled to her, staring up at the ceiling again.

Winry shifted so she was facing him. "That's good, isn't it?" She nodded. It was good, right?

He shook his head. "Not really. I don't like that hospital. Too many bad memories," he grumbled. "So I'm halfway glad that they're going to destroy that one and build a new one a few blocks away."

With a bit of a laugh, Winry leaned closer. "What bad memories?" Maybe, just maybe, she could weasel a few more facts out of him that morning before they left.

Edward looked at her again with an arched eyebrow. "You wish," he said simply, then turned his face back to the ceiling.

Okay, maybe not, she told herself. Well, she could get points for trying. A little bit of effort never hurt anyone. Heck, it even sometimes resulted in actually getting something! But with Edward, usually, if the effort was aimed towards his past, then she rarely found something out. So, with a sigh, she gazed at him.

He looked so content at the moment, just relaxing on his couch with her. It didn't matter if he didn't really register her being there; he looked deep in thought. But still, he was probably the type of person would tell someone to go away in an uncomplimentary way if they bothered him. And since he hadn't told her to go away yet, she took that as a good sign. Winry was probably very fortunate to have made it so close to him in this amount of time. She was pretty sure there were a couple of things that Alphonse had yet to be told. But, Winry was also pretty sure that Edward hadn't told her any of those things yet, either.

Would there be a "yet?" Did she want to wait long enough for a "yet" to come? She wasn't sure. She knew she would get tired of waiting eventually if she did decide to. Then what would happen? It would be hard to just drop things, since they were already working on a "history" together. Winry knew she would never be the same after that kiss earlier; she'd never felt anything like it before. And she hoped Edward wouldn't feel the same, either.

He had so much pain, and Winry only knew a fraction of it. He usually looked sad when he was thinking, believing no one was watching him. Occasionally, when she had been watching him, she'd seen him swipe under his eyes inconspicuously, as though to wipe away a tear he was ashamed of. Those were the times she just wanted to hug him, because she knew what it was to cry over something lost! It was a hard path to trod, but she'd been down it and come out all right. And if he was getting teary-eyed over something he'd done in the past, there was little he could tell her that would make her change how she felt. You couldn't choose who you loved. But she still wanted to stand by him, despite his usual crankiness and bad-tempered persona. When he wanted to get mad, she'd let him get mad; it was better to let his feelings out somehow or other! He couldn't hide everything! She even got mad at him, and let him know it, too! But, even though she got mad, he got mad, they both yelled, Winry did want to stand by him, to be with him, to wait for that "yet" when he would tell her his past.

He probably felt like he was in a dark place now, that no one was really with him. She wanted to let him know that she was there for him, and that he could trust her with his feelings. Winry imagined he had been hurt in the past; well, she would just help him trust again. And in doing that, maybe he would come to love her, truly.

Hey, she _could_ dream, couldn't she?

"Winry?" His voice startled her out of her thoughts.

She blinked a few times to focus her eyes and saw that Edward was looking at her intently. He looked a little sad, still. Winry wanted to just hold him and tell him it would be all right. Wow, a lot of girlfriend-like feelings she was experiencing lately. She wondered if it was a sign?

"Will you come with me?" he asked softly, looking elsewhere now.

It almost broke her heart to see him so wary of a certain subject. So she reached out again and touched his cheek. Gently, but with enough force to let him know she was serious, Winry moved his face back to look at her. "Yes, I'll come with you Edward," she promised. He smiled at her, regaining a some of his usual arrogance, like he'd expected nothing else of her.

He stood. "All right, well, I'm going to get something to eat," he said and went into the kitchen.

Winry laughed to herself and stood up, as well. "I'm going to get a shower. You might want to, also, from last night," she advised, smiling. She didn't want to really sound like a mother hen or remind him of all the happenings. So, maybe if she acted like she was thinking about the club, then he'd remember that people get all sweaty when they dance. But, she saw in his eyes the memory of Al, bleeding on the floor against the turn-style. Mentally, she kicked herself. "Well...I'll be out in a few minutes."

He nodded. "All right."

When she was inside the bathroom, she shut and leaned against the door. "Idiot," she berated herself.

--------------------

**What'd y'all think? Lemme know. And I'm pretty sure that I"m gonna start posting stuff, like thoughts and commentaries about my chapters on my Live Journal. (link in profile) And, I also had this idea...it'll be another EdWin fic that takes place during the Dick Tracy period...like the 1930s, 1940s...that time. Again, check out the LJ for stuff on that. Okay! I'll see y'all next week, hopefully. Peace...lurve...reviews.**


	16. Smile Through the Pain

**Disclaimer: Don't own FMA. Nor do I own the song "Smile through the pain." My best friend wrote it. It's really pretty. I'll talk to her about putting the lyrics on my LJ.**

Advertisements: You know the drill! Bad moi forget them last week, but Shura's stories (she was very busy for a while, but she's back now), Isis's stories (though she hasn't updated for a while), Asha's stories (she's been busy with college, haven't heard from her lately), and Meluivan Indil's stories. :)

Chapter 16: Smile Through the Pain

Edward sighed as he stared down at his foot. His metal foot. He moved his toes individually, listening to the quiet clinking of the metal. Yes, it was horribly quiet in his house again. It wasn't that the quiet was rare, it's just that earlier, he'd been running around the house aimlessly, up and down the stairs to the basement, up and down the hallway, and a few times around the house outside, making almost all manner of noises. Why? Because he'd felt like he had too much energy. And no, it wasn't from the breakfast of fruit he'd had. The fruit had been left by his neighbor probably two days ago, if the note indicated anything, and he figured he should eat it since he didn't know when he would be back again. No, his energy had been from that kiss earlier, that world-disrupting kiss he'd shared with Winry.

He'd been so sure of himself, so positive that he was successfully falling out of love with her. Until that. _Why_ had he kissed her? Not just because she'd asked him. It had been in the moment to, he guessed. Something inside him had said, "It's right," and he'd done it. That was all there had been to it. Until he'd started to lose control of himself.

He'd felt when Winry had been trying to pull away, yet he had been helplessly lost to himself to do anything else but hold her to him. He'd been cursing himself, as well, that he hadn't been in control of his actions, but some other force in his head. It had happened before, but Mustang had always been there to slap him upside the head or something else painful to get his attention. It was usually when they were on a job and Edward had been obsessing over it. He knew it was a bad thing to obsess over something to the point that he would forget his morals once they had the bad guy in their reach. He knew he should have been fired for it, too, but Mustang knew his story and, as much as Edward hated to admit, the man was protecting him. Sure, Mustang was a jerk most of the time, with his snide remarks and sarcastic comments. But he had been there during the accident, the one to keep Edward from doing something even more insanely stupid than he had already. Mustang knew some of Edward's pain after the accident. Another thing Ed hated to admit was that the man _did_ cut him slack. His boss made harsher comments to other men, but that was also because he didn't like them. There were days when Ed wondered if Mustang didn't like him, but there was something he always remembered:

Mustang _was_ a friend, someone who would be there to keep Edward in check. A sort of father figure, even, since Edward's father had left years before, curse the man.

With a sigh, he turned his thoughts away from his past. It was a dark place, not somewhere he wanted to return to any time soon. But he didn't want to think about his future, either, because his future was something of a void, empty of most but pain. Dark and depressing as that thought was, Edward believed it to be true. He knew he couldn't have a life with Winry, even if he wanted one. He was just a ball of angst, and he readily admitted it to himself. There was little that was happy in his life and he accepted that. He knew he frustrated Winry in more ways that one, probably. But she annoyed him, too! It was always like she wanted something from him that he just couldn't give because he didn't know _what_ she wanted! Then, when he finally figured it out, she was past wanting it and was horribly mad at him. It wasn't his fault she only dropped _hints_!

He grumbled and felt around in his pocket for his watch. Then he remembered he'd left it in the bathroom last night sometime. Sure, he could easily check the clock in the kitchen, but there was something about his watch that he didn't want Winry to see. It would lead to too many questions he didn't want to answer. But _she_ was in the bathroom now, which proved the challenge. Could he make it in and out without her noticing? Or, better yet, in and out before she exited the shower? She'd been in there for about half an hour; he didn't imagine that she would be taking much longer.

Sure, he could just run in there real quick, but there was no guarantee that she had left his watch alone if she'd seen it. Where had he left it? By the sink, right? That was the first room in his two part bathroom. It was set up with a sink and a place for towels in a smaller room, then a door off to the side where the toilet and shower were. If he'd left his pocket watch in the first room, he could just jump in and out really quick without her noticing anything.

Unless his timing was horribly unfortunate and he walked in on her in less than suitable dress. Or, she left the door open between rooms and was getting dressed. Or she forgot a towel altogether and was getting one. Jeez, there were so many possibilities of walking in on Winry in the midst of or after her shower! It was tempting to just call it all off, but Edward didn't trust very many people, and even fewer with his personal items. He trusted Winry, he supposed, but just the idea of her seeing his watch was a little unnerving. The last thing he needed now was for her to have _more_ questions for him about his past. That was on the bottom of the list of things Edward wanted most.

So, with his mind made up, he jumped off the couch and started off down the hallway. By the time he'd reached the door to the bathroom, he had quite convinced himself it would be no problem for him to jump in, grab the watch, and jump out. Easy as pie, right? Then why were Edward's hands sweaty like he was about to do something he seriously regretted?

Ignoring the signs, Edward slowly touched the door handle. Then he opened the door a little and peeked in. The shower was off, but maybe she was getting dressed in the other room? He didn't see her in the first room. So, he opened the door wider. Then he stopped in his tracks for two reasons.

One: Winry was standing in the middle of the room in a towel. Two: she was holding his watch and looking at it intently.

Edward swallowed as he felt a hot blush stain his cheeks. At a loss of what to say, and waiting for Winry to shout at him, he stood there, mouth agape and eyes wide, staring. Not that he hadn't seen a woman in a towel before, but it was just...strange this time. He was seeing Winry, the woman he apparently loved and was trying to convince himself he didn't, standing in the middle of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her. Yeah, that was great for his mission of convincing himself he wasn't in love! Just wonderful! Just a way to get his mind reeling with possibilities and wandering in places it shouldn't. Inwardly he nodded to himself that it was probably the stupidest thing he'd ever done in the whole of his life.

When Winry looked at him, her expression reassured Edward that he'd done something very ignorant - again.

"What was December 20th?" she asked softly, voice barely audible. There was a blush on her cheeks, too, and it was probably from being in a towel, under his gaze, and for being found peeking in his watch.

Edward sighed and pulled the door shut after finally regaining control over his actions. "Something important," he said before the door clicked shut. After a few seconds, he leaned against the wall beside the door and sighed. "Oops." That didn't even begin to cover it, though.

That had probably been one of _the _single-most embarrassing moments of his life. It could have been worse, he knew, but still, it was always awkward to walk in on someone in the shower, towel or no towel. And now there would be that uncomfortable silence between them because he'd seen a lot more of her than he probably should have this time of year. Sure, bikinis and bathing suits showed off a lot more than a towel, but this was somehow different. Not in a sick way, but just a strange, he would never forget type of way. Just one of those things that he realized it would be harder than he thought to "fall out of love" than he had anticipated.

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Twenty minutes later, Edward was sitting at a red light in his car, with Winry next to him. Both were silent, and the only phrases they had exchanged were about their departure from the house. Edward was hoping she wasn't going to hate him now for walking in on her like that. It really hadn't been his fault, though. He'd checked to see if she was there, and she had stood in a place it was nearly impossible to see, even checking the mirror. If she hadn't been peeking at his watch and had gotten dressed quicker, then it wouldn't have happened. So, she held some blame, too.

But, he supposed if he looked at it truthfully, it was all equally distributed, the fault. But he wasn't about to tell himself how. He didn't want to have to feel bad about something that was so insignificant. Or so he told himself.

When Winry cleared her throat, he knew she'd had enough of the silence. He didn't know what to say! He didn't know if he should say a quick apology for walking in on her, tell her about Al and what he'd heard on the phone, or just give her a quick phrase on what December 20th had been. He didn't really want to talk about that. He didn't really want to talk about Al, either, until he was talking _to_ Al himself. And then, he really, _really_ didn't want to apologize. It felt weird to apologize seriously. But he knew he had to do something. So, he said the most logical thing.

"I'm sorry." There, quick and painless. Right?

He was waiting for the bite to come.

Winry looked over at him when he started driving. "What?" She sounded confused.

"For walking in on your earlier," he clarified. "Sorry."

Edward pictured her blinking at him absently, not really comprehending him. "Oh. Okay." She sounded dazed, like she was deep in thought. Hopefully, she was thinking about something constructive and would stay out of his business for a little while! Unless she was thinking about his business anyway and trying to answer things for herself.

Something Ed wondered was, why did she always ask him? Why couldn't she ask Al questions about their past? Why did all the answers have to come from Edward? Winry should know that he wasn't going to answer her at all, just maybe give a discrete answer and maybe curse a little. Al was the one to grill for information; he was soft as butter, especially when it came to Winry. Edward was a hard, scaly, temperamental dragon. But even the fiercest dragons had soft underbellies.

He swore lightly under his breath.

"What?" He felt Winry looking at him.

Ed shook his head. "Nothing," he grumbled. He was hooked, wasn't he?

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Another twenty minutes later, Al was opening his eyes to see his brother watching him intently. A small smile came over the older man's features. Al tried a smile, but he had a feeling it was more like a grimace of sorts. He heard Edward's quiet chuckle. It made the world a brighter place. His brother was actually somewhat happy again! Now if only Al could do something about the pain in his shoulder...

"Hey, Al," Edward said softly, leaning closer to his brother.

Al attempted another smile. "Hello, Brother," he mumbled. He was still a little dizzy from the medicine he was on, so it was a little on the challenging side to do much. But he still tried to sit up a little anyway. The slight movements he made caused him to wince when he shifted his shoulder.

"Don't try to kill yourself again," Ed chuckled, taking his brother's hand. "You've already come too close to more near-death experiences I'd like my younger brother to."

With a half laugh of his own, Al nodded. He didn't know all about the accident, but he knew it hadn't been pretty. He'd tried to read about it in the paper, but Edward had just said it was overdone and made up, mostly. But Al hadn't really believed him. He'd just stayed away from the papers so Ed wouldn't get upset. That was never fun. "How are you doing?" Al asked.

Ed smirked. "I should be asking you, but I'm okay. How are they treating you here?" he asked.

With that, the triage nurse from the night before, the one to have offered to lead Ed around walked in. Al watched her a moment before answering. "They've been really great. Nurse Clara has been taking care of me, mostly," he said, inclining his head towards the woman.

"I know who Nurse Clara is," Ed grumbled. "I've been here, too, you know." He let go of Al's hand, his expression darkening.

Al looked at Clara and saw her laughing to herself. She had been one of the women to attend Edward years ago. Why Edward was so disgruntled about it, he didn't know. Even when Al had tried to find things out, all the nurses he recognized somewhat had been closed-mouthed about the accident. All seemed reluctant to talk about it. Al wished he could remember that night better. What he wished even more was for Edward to tell him about it.

"How is Winry?" Al asked when Clara came over with a syringe. Out of the corner of his eye, Al saw his brother freeze.

"What's that?" the golden haired man asked stiffly.

Clara smiled as she injected the liquid into the IV line. "A light sedative to ease the pain. It will make him drowsy, so your visit might be a little short, Edward."

Ed grumbled to himself loudly. Then he looked at Al again. "Winry's fine," he said with a frown.

Al smiled. "That's good. Is she here?"

Before Edward could answer, Winry stepped in from behind the curtain with her jacket folded over her arm and a smile on her face. "How are you feeling, Alphonse?" she asked, standing next to Ed. Al saw his brother visibly tense. Had something happened?

In answer to her question, Al nodded. "I'm doing as well as I can after being shot and drugged up on morphine," he replied jokingly. He saw Edward shift in his chair a little uncomfortably, away from Winry. Something _had_ happened. Oh the joys.

Winry laughed at him, though, apparently oblivious to Ed's discomfort. Or maybe, she was fully aware of it and choosing to ignore him? That would be funny. Then Al's eyes became heavy. He fought to keep them open for a moment or two longer while he looked at his brother. "Well, the medicine is working great," he commented, smiling sleepily with his eyes closed finally.

Ed growled. "Obviously. You have a stupid looking grin," he commented.

"Hmm."

Al heard Winry tap Ed's metal shoulder. "Well, we should probably go then, if you're ready Edward." He imagined her looking at Ed with a questioning look, and Edward with a scowl.

"Yeah." Ed stood up and clapped his hand on Al's shoulder.

Al smiled still and nodded his head. "Goodbye, Brother," he said quietly. "G'bye, Winry." He heard Winry start to walk off after murmuring a soft goodbye, but Edward remained.

"I'll be another moment, Winry," he said. Then Al felt his brother lean forward. "I'm sorry."

Al wanted to ask why Edward was sorry, but the drug was taking full effect now, and it was hard to just process words. So, he made a small noise at his brother before falling asleep again.

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Edward sighed when he turned off the ignition in his car. As he'd been walking out of the hospital, turning his phone back on, he'd gotten a call from Roy Mustang. The word he'd said then had been rather foul, and Winry had yelled at him for saying it with young children near by. He'd ignored her when he answered the phone. It had been a curt greeting, but Ed had received an equally nasty jab in response. Then he'd promptly been told to get down to the station as soon as he could because there was some important news he needed to know.

Not usually one to follow orders delivered like that, Edward had been tempted to hang up the phone. Then he'd looked at a slightly forlorn Winry walking next to him and he'd changed his mind. Ed was willing to ignore a danger threat when it was just him; he could take care of himself. But since he had someone he had to protect, running around without a care was something to be hesitant about. So, he'd reluctantly driven to the station to listen to his oh, so favorite boss.

"Just hang out here for a second, Winry," he told her when they entered the building. He pointed to his desk, indicating for her to go over there. When he was sure she was fine he looked at Havoc. "Keep an eye on her, okay?" The older man nodded, his cigarette bobbing a little bit.

Ed laughed inwardly and waved at Winry before disappearing into his boss' office. Havoc was always smoking in the building, but he never got in trouble for it. If anyone commented, it just went over the man's head. He was a neat individual, Edward would have to admit, because he wasn't bothered by too much. Sometimes, Ed wondered why Mustang never pointed out Havoc's breaking of a rule to him. But when Edward walked into his boss' office, he immediately knew why.

The man had stacks upon stacks of paperwork on his desk and strewn about the room. Folders were piled in a corner, next to the file cabinet. The waste basket was overflowing with papers Edward suspected were mostly doodles or some nonsense like that. And the man who was responsible for the mess was sitting at his desk, staring out of his window blankly. His dark, coal colored eyes were unfocused at some unknown focal point. His hand was fisted beneath his chin, probably supporting his jaw to keep his mouth shut. Overall, he looked rather bored.

The reason Roy Mustang never corrected Havoc was because Mustang didn't do much himself, thus breaking another rule. If the older, dark haired man were to blow a whistle for his subordinate, then he'd be blowing a whistle for himself.

Standing beside Mustang was Riza Hawkeye. Ed referred to her as Ms. Hawkeye, though, when he was addressing her. If he was talking about her to someone, it was Hawkeye. When he looked at the blond woman, she nodded to him.

"Edward," she said softly in greeting.

His very name seemed to pull Roy out of his trance, for the man jumped out of his pose and immediately looked regal. Edward didn't even bother to hide his smirk or quiet his laugh at the man. "Elric," Roy said evenly.

"Mustang," Ed replied, still chuckling a little. "What've you got for me?" He leaned against a chair easily, folding his arms over his chest.

Mustang sighed and shuffled a few papers, like what Edward had asked was some big task that would take up so much of his time. Pfft, right. The most it would take up was some of Edward's sleeping time. The older man stared out of his window the majority of the day, doing nothing. So finding some paper wouldn't throw off his groove too badly.

After a couple minutes of rifling through his desk, Mustang produced a sketch and handed it to Edward. "Does he look familiar?" he asked.

Ed studied the picture. It was a man , probably in his thirties. His hair was a little on the messy side, and cropped at a shorter length, with a little to spare. His eyes were slightly vague because of the sunglasses he wore, but Edward could see there was an unusual shape to them, not something he saw everyday in Central. The man had to be foreign; not only his eyes, but his other facial features as well. His face was angular with high cheekbones and a wide chin. The shading made Edward think of his as well-tanned. But the one thing that stood out was a lighter shading over his forehead and eyes in the shape of a wide X.

"Hey, I saw this guy last night! He was the bouncer at the nightclub," he exclaimed.

Mustang smirked. Ed wanted to smack the look off his superior's face. "Well, he is also a serial killer. He killed two men last night, well after midnight. They were part of the military police."

Edward looked up, a little shocked. That man...if it was true, then he'd put himself in danger by being near to the guy. Ed wasn't military police, but he was still on the police force. He didn't know how picky the guy was when it came to who he killed.

"Their deaths were very gruesome," Mustang commented. "They seemed to have been blown up from the inside, starting at their head. A form of alchemy, the investigators said."

Ed sighed and tossed the paper back on the desk. This was lovely.

"Hughes is on the case right now, but he said that you should keep an eye out. The two men he killed were in your area of the neighborhood." Mustang lifted his head. "And since you have extra baggage to keep an eye on, I myself thought you should know."

He was trying very hard to control himself, but there was something about the man before him that set Edward off the edge. "She's _not_ baggage, sir," he said through gritted teeth. And before he went off on a tangent to ultimately get himself in trouble, he added, "Thanks. I'll let you know if I see anything." Then he nodded to Hawkeye and left the room. When he shut the door and scanned the room, he saw Hughes leaning on his cubicle wall, holding a piece of paper. Ed decided to watch a little longer. He wasn't quite ready to be nice yet.

Hughes nodded a few moments later and handed the paper back to Winry, who was still in the cubicle. Edward took that as his cue to head back over there and reached them just in time to hear Hughes commenting on the paper.

"It sounds very realistic, like you're experiencing those feelings now," the older man was saying in one of his less than usual bouts of seriousness.

"I—"

Ed heard Winry about to respond but stop when she saw him. Then she smiled at him and quickly folded the paper. He gave her a suspicious look, only to receive a challenging one back. That was before a picture of a little girl was shoved under his nose. Ed leaned his head back to focus on the picture of Hughes' daughter. She was standing on a coffee table with a cup held to her mouth like she was singing.

"Isn't Elysia so cute!" Hughes cooed. "That was yesterday morning." Another picture of Elysia sitting at the table with food all over her face replaced the first one. "And this was two weeks ago! Isn't she so adorable?"

Edward nodded and stepped into his cubicle. He took Winry's wrist and pulled her up. "That's great, Hughes. We really need to get going, though. I have some stuff to do at my house." After a quick look around the small area, Edward moved out of it, still holding on to Winry's arm, and headed for the door. He could still hear Hughes going on about the pictures and it made him wonder how the man could be so much of a family man when he was at work almost sixteen hours a day.

When Ed looked at Winry, he knew exactly how. That pang in his chest wasn't heartburn, but heartache. Who was he kidding himself, trying to fall out of love with Winry? She was the best thing that had happened to him in a long time, since before his mother had died. That had been three years ago. Three years was a long time for someone to live in the dark only to have light thrust at them so suddenly. But Edward refused to be blinded.

When he pulled his car door shut after seeing Winry in, his cell phone rang. With a little curse, he pulled the wretched electronic device out of his pocket. "Hang on," he told Winry as he answered it. "Hey."

"Edward, where is your brother?" Izumi said quickly into the phone.

Ed winced and started the car. "He's, ah, in the hospital." There was no successful way to lie to his foster mom. It was always better to tell the truth.

He pulled the phone away from his ear when Izumi spoke next. "And just why is he in the hospital?" she asked very loudly.

Pulling out onto the main road, Ed slumped his shoulders. "He got shot last night. He's doing great, though! They'll probably release him--"

"How did he get shot? What were you boys doing?" No matter how old they were, Edward mused, they would always be boys to Izumi.

"I was working on the case and he ran in the middle of a fight," he explained. There was just something about his foster mom that always made him feel like apologizing.

There was a loud sigh on the other end of the phone. "Well, I can't say much for you guys, but be careful next time! You might not be so lucky!" Then she paused. "Where was he shot?"

"In the shoulder. Listen, can I call you back?" Brake lights because visible through the falling snow. "I'm driving home and there's a lot of traffic."

He pictured Izumi nodding. "Okay. Be careful."

Ed hung up the phone and sighed. "Do you want some music?" he asked Winry, glancing briefly at her. "There are some CDs in the d—" When he looked at her again, he saw her completely ensconced in her piece of paper. She was scribbling frantically, like she couldn't write down her thoughts quickly enough. He wondered what she was writing. With a little smile, Ed continued to sit in the traffic on the way to his house.

He could get used to this, he mused. It was time to be honest with himself again. Otherwise, he wasn't going to get far with anything. He did love Winry, but he wasn't sure how to tell her. Trying to fall _out_ of love with her wasn't working as well as he had planned. He didn't know if he really did want to fall out of love, but he didn't know if he wanted to be in love, either. Either way, it was probably a lose-lose situation. He told Winry he loved her, finished the case, and she'd probably disappear. _Or_, he neglected to tell her, finished the case, and went on his merry way to market. Either way, he would likely lose her. But he didn't want to take the chance of openly having his heart broken. That had already happened in the past, and it would probably be too much to handle again this time around.

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Fifteen minutes later, Edward was parking his car in front of his house. His mood had become dark, and he was sure Winry wanted to kill him from the bad vibes he was sending. But when he unlocked the door he snuck a glance at her; she looked as morose as he was. So, maybe they would just sit in separate rooms for a while until he was ready to talk to her and she to him. Or, they would just sit in the same room and completely ignore each other. Either way, Edward could handle it. He was a pro at silences. He needed to work on her case anyway. The lack of speech between them would give him the ample opportunity to scribble some things on the new findings.

When he opened the door to his house, he let Winry go in first. She looked at him and smiled brilliantly. Edward felt the sharp pang of wanting something he couldn't have. But he returned her smile, if a little sadly.

Oh, how much he had changed in the past month and a half. Even a month ago, he would have laughed at someone if they'd told him he would be in love with Winry. Two weeks ago, he would have chuckled at the off-handed remark about him being so totally wrapped around her finger without her knowing. Two days ago, he would have smirked at someone commenting on how cute they looked together. But today, he wasn't laughing at anything. Things were too serious for him to even smile at them. He needed to know some things, but more than a few of those things he couldn't bring himself to ask Winry. He couldn't ask her if she'd be true to her word that she'd stand by him, no matter what. He couldn't ask her if she would wait for him to get over his indefinite amount of issues. No, there were just things he couldn't ask.

A couple minutes after they had settled themselves back into Edward's house, the vibes in the air weren't as dark. At least, not as dark from Winry. Edward was sitting at the bar with a glass of clear liquid that smelled suspiciously of alcohol. He'd put the bottle away after pouring three fingers of vodka. That would be enough to settle his nerves. He hoped. But if it didn't, he'd resort to sleep. Or a hot shower. Those never failed him.

"Edward?" He looked over at Winry silently. "Come here, please," she requested softly.

He sighed lightly and slid off his bar stool. She was sitting on the couch with a notebook she'd "borrowed" from him. He doubted he would get it back, but that was fine. He had a zillion others in his study; he wouldn't miss one. When he sat beside her, she looked a little sheepish as she handed him the notebook.

"Will you read it for me?" she asked shyly.

He smiled. "Sure." He skimmed the poem that would probably be lyrics in her next album a few times, trying to get the gist of everything she meant by them. They sounded awfully familiar to him. Not the words themselves, he thought, but the events she was writing about. As he stared at the words, trying to figure out what she was feeling, he realized she was very tense. When Ed looked at her, he could tell she was waiting for his opinion. She looked as if his opinion really counted to her. That had him at a loss for words momentarily. But he handed the notebook back to her and smiled. "I like them," he told her softly.

She looked like he had granted her all the riches in the world. "Thank you." He watched her hesitantly lean forward and brush her lips against his cheek.

Edward couldn't help but be a little startled, but he withheld his shock as he stood up. He stretched out his arms and reached down to touch her head. She smiled up at him genuinely. Still stuck for words, he went back to the bar stool, back to his vodka, and continued to ponder the meaning of her song.

Then it came to him suddenly, when he heard her humming a tune. It was about them. It was about how they had to smile through the pain.

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**Ta da! About 5300 words for y'all! Like it? I hope so.I like, finished it today. Oopsie...lol Anyhow...I have been updating my LJ daily with little thoughts for you guys about the chapters! Some of them are funny, some are just like, whatever was going through my head at the moment about it. Anyway, check it out. It won't bite. It might burn your eyes sincethere's so much up there. But anyhow. Hope y'all enjoyed! I'll be going to Tennessee next Sunday, so I will try my hardest to update Saturday, but it probably won't be horribly long. Then the time I spend on the Inet will be small, so don't hold your breath for an update, but cross your fingers. Check my LJ for more details. Okay!**

Peace...lurve...reviews?


	17. A Kitten!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Full Metal Alchemist. **

**Author's Note: Almost 6000 words! I have 5956 words in here, without all my extra rambling at y'all. See my Live Journal for more details about that and for some comic relief.

* * *

****Chapter 17**

Edward slowly opened his eyes when he heard the sound of TV static. He inhaled sharply to bring life back to his sleepy body. Shutting his eyes again, he rubbed his face groggily. "What time is it?" he asked himself.

Then he opened his eyes again and spotted the VCR clock. It was blurry, but after blinking a few times, he made out the time to be a little after six. He was ready to go back to sleep, but nature suddenly called with an urgent message for the porcelain god. Grumbling, he crawled off of the couch. He wasn't really aware of his surroundings as he went down the hallway into the bathroom.

Five minutes later, he walked out into the hallway. He'd taken his hair out of his braid and put a brush to it, so it was a little on the wavy side. Ed yawned and stretched out his arms. While he was looking in the living room, he saw the notebook Winry had been using earlier. Where was she, anyway? The last time he'd seen her, it'd been before he'd fallen asleep around four-thirty. She'd been writing in the notebook with a soft expression on her face. It had been the last thing he'd seen before slumber had claimed him.

"Winry?" he said sleepily. He peeked into his study, but no sign of her there. Good. After that, he checked in Al's room and the basement, and still no trace. That left his room.

Edward's and Alphonse's rooms were easily distinguished from the furnishings alone, not to mention the paint on the walls. Al's room was a light, sky blue with stormy gray furnishings. He had a captain's bed with blue and gray patterns on his blanket, placed against the wall near the closet. His dresser was short and wide, fitting comfortably beneath a window. There was a nightstand with a digital alarm clock and a few pictures near the bed. A neat writing desk was in a far corner of the room with a lamp, an old typewriter, and a few reams of paper atop it. Lastly, a small bookcase was near the desk, filled with reference books and things of that sort. Al's room was a neat little place.

Ed's room, however, was painted a dark blue with like colors for his furnishings. He had a queen-sized bed with black and blue bed coverings. There was a wardrobe in the far corner made from from dark oak wood. A bookcase was beside his bed, practically bursting with books. There was a desk at a diagonal from the bookcase, covered in papers and folders. There was an elevated stack of papers Edward guessed was hiding a lamp. A nightstand was at the side of his bed closest to the door. There was a lamp and a book on the surface. In the drawer, Ed knew, was a handgun, some extra bullets, a pack of cigarettes, and a lighter. There was a door that led to his personal bathroom near the closet, decorated in similar colors.

When Ed walked into his room, he sighed and leaned against the door frame. Winry was asleep on his bed. Her head was just below his pillow and she was facing him. There were a couple of papers in front of her, and the pictures that were usually on his bookcase were spread out with the papers. She looked like she'd been snooping around and the past events had finally caught up with her. He wondered how long she'd been asleep, and how long she'd gone through his papers. He knew they were his because of the messy scrawl on them.

He stood watching her sleep for a few minutes, just taking it all in. She was asleep on his bed...for some reason, it just interested him. It was one of those mysteries of life that he couldn't quite comprehend. Why was it so entrancing to watch her? She was only sleeping. He'd seen plenty of women sleep; his mother, Izumi, Rochelle, Quintus, and a few other girls. But for him to see Winry sleeping it was just a different ball game. Her face was so peacefully set in slumber, anyone else never would have thought that she was being threatened.

With a shake of his head, Edward brought himself out of his thoughts and walked over to the bed. He quietly picked up the papers and put them in a neat little pile on his desk and replaced the pictures on the bookcase. Now that his bed was clean of most but a woman, he sighed. Couldn't do anything about her, could he? Nope, he was stuck with her, one way or another. That was true in so many forms, Edward didn't want to think about it. So, when he headed out of his room to find something to eat, hearing something behind him startled him.

"Edward?" she murmured, her voice heavy with sleep still.

He turned in the door frame, leaned against the wood again, and looked at Winry. She was yawning now, but gestured for him come over to his bed. "Why?" he asked, secretly amused at her. She frowned.

"Because I said so," she mumbled.

He smirked at her. "You didn't say _anything_ about me coming over there," he pointed out.

"Fine. Edward, get over here now," she demanded, still frowning. He rolled his eyes, but complied anyway. In a few short—haha, _short_—steps, he was standing next to his bed. Winry was scowling at his thigh now. "Kneel down." She reached up and grabbed his hand, pulling him down.

He snorted in laughter quietly, but knelt down. Usually, he would have been protesting, but he was still a little tired so complying was easiest to do at the moment. So, Edward let out a slow breath and looked at her. "Yes?" he asked, trying to sound impatient.

"Hi," she said. Winry lifted her hand to his cheek and brushed her fingers against his jawline.

Ed flicked his eyes at her hand then looked back at her, trying to ignore the chill that went down his spine. She was smiling at him like she knew something he didn't. "What?" He hated being left in the dark.

Very quickly, almost too quickly for Edward to register with his groggy mind still, he felt Winry press a brief kiss on his mouth. "You're cute when you sleep," she mumbled before he could say anything else. He took his turn to scowl now. They were quiet a moment, but Winry spoke again first. "The hospital called a little while after you dozed off."

Ed's eyes snapped back to hers quickly. "What'd they say?" he asked.

"Al's ready to be released. Apparently, they don't keep gun shot wounds very long," she mused, turning on her back and stretching.

Looking elsewhere and away from Winry, Edward scratched his head. "Apparently," he agreed. "How long ago was that?"

She made a small stretching noise and then turned on her side again to smile at him. "About five-ish." She paused. A momentarily smug look came over her face, but it was gone too quickly for Ed to ponder it. He took her cessation of speech as a sign he could go get ready to pick Al up, but she caught his hand before he moved away. "Edward?" Her voice was soft and a little unsure.

He looked down at her. "Yeah, Win?" Momentarily, his eyes flicked to their joined hands, but he looked back at her again.

Winry seemed to hesitate before sitting up. She patted the bed next to her, indicating for him to sit down. Edward did so, and immediately had his arms full of woman. Winry's face was against his collar bone and her arms were around his neck. Edward was surprised at first, so he only sat in shock for a couple moments. Once he regained himself, it took a lot not to stiffen at the blatant affection. Edward wasn't used to touch, giving or receiving. To have Winry hanging on to him like this was pushing the borders on the "Things That Disturb Edward Elric" list.

But, thankfully, she let go after a moment. "Are you going to go pick Al up soon?" she asked.

Ed stood up, nodding. "Yeah. It's getting late, and he probably doesn't like hospitals any more than I do." Then his stomach rumbled. He hadn't eaten much of anything that day, only some fruit for breakfast and a sandwich for lunch. He looked at Winry. "When you were cooking earlier, how much food was left?" he asked.

She laughed. "Not much. It's either eat out or buy some groceries," she said.

Ed shrugged. "Well, I don't want to buy groceries when I don't know how long we'll be staying here," he said. "We only came back here last night because it was closer than your house." _And_, he added to himself, _it's dangerous at your house. Ignore the fact that someone broke into my house._

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Winry nod a little, a sullen expression suddenly on her face. "How long are we going to stay here?" she asked softly.

"A couple days, maybe," he said nonchalantly, like he didn't notice her expression, like he didn't care she was becoming upset. If she was upset about not being able to be in her environment, she needed to imagine how Edward felt when he'd suddenly been uprooted into hers. "Just to confirm some suspicions. I need to be close to the station for that." He nodded, making up his mind completely. "So, yeah, we'll buy groceries after we pick up Al."

He watched her expression stay dark, but he didn't offer any sympathy because, frankly, he didn't have much. The girl was famous, sure, but that didn't mean she always had to get her way. The world just didn't work that way.

"And don't I know it," Ed grumbled to himself, not realizing he'd spoken out loud.

Winry looked up at him. "What was that?"

He looked at her, startled. "Nothing. I'm going to get the car heated up," he stated and left Winry there. It wasn't but a few seconds that he heard her exit his room, though, leaving it empty.

* * *

Empty but for one thing, though. Hidden beneath Edward's bed was a puddle of what looked like water, but nothing around it was wet. And just _how_ did someone get a puddle of liquid under their bed, unless they had a dog? The puddle rippled around the edges a little before deciding it wanted to go out from the bed. It headed into the bathroom, via the crack beneath the door. Once inside, the puddle took a more solid form before the mirror. In a few seconds, there was a woman looking at her reflection. She smiled at herself and patted her brown hair.

"I have news for you, Envy," the woman said softly into a small microphone near her mouth. She turned and opened the door a little so she could look at the bookcase. She saw her likeness in a picture and couldn't figure out why it disturbed her.

* * *

Edward sighed as he buckled his seat belt. It was about seven now, and they had just picked up Al. Ed should have been ecstatic to get his brother out of the wretched hospital, but instead, he found himself being a little on the agitated side. It wasn't because of the fact that the hospital bill, when it came in, would contain a couple digits more than he'd want to see, though that was unfortunate. Actually, the reason Edward found himself sighing was because of the medication his brother was going to be on, once they filled the prescription.

"Vicodin," he muttered to himself. "Just peachy." That wasn't very cheap medicine, and Edward had taken it before to know its affects. It didn't take away pain, he knew. Oh, he knew that too well. It just made you forget that the pain was ever there. Well, how could Edward have forgotten his pain when there was none there, really, to forget! He was referring to his phantom pains, of course. At the thought and memory of that night, he fingered his metal shoulder hesitantly before starting the car.

"Edward?" He heard Winry's voice filled with concern from beside him.

He immediately moved to crank up the car instead of answering. "So, Al," he began. He was backing out of a parking place because some idiot had taken what had been an empty spot for all of two seconds. Edward had been thrilled for those two seconds that he wouldn't have to back out. Backing out wasn't one of his specialties. Not at all. "What did you think of getting all that attention at the hospital?" He grinned a little.

Though the male-female ratio of nurses in most hospitals had more males, Central City was different. _Very_ different. It was at least four female nurses to one male nurse. And, if memory served, the majority of those female nurses were young and fresh out of med. school. Sure, that was a little low to think, but it was something that would encourage any male to get better soon. Or, if one looked at it another way, it encouraged them to fake sick for longer than they really were.

He saw Al shrug a little, looking the slightest bit on the drunken side. Or maybe it was 'high.' "Okay, I guess. Nurse Clara was the one to attend me mostly," Al mumbled.

Ed nodded. Typical. "Of course Clara would," he grumbled. She'd been the one to see to Edward when he'd been there. He pulled out of the hospital parking lot and headed off towards the grocery store. They were mostly silent during the ride, except for Al making random comments about the snow and the streetlights at regular intervals, usually after a stop light. Edward knew Winry was struggling not to laugh from beside him. He couldn't say that he was completely untouched from his brother's apparent drugged-up state, but Ed was also dealing with a couple things in his head at the moment. It wasn't hard not to laugh.

When they reached the grocery store, Edward fished in his coat pocket for Al's prescription. He handed it to Winry when he found it. "I want you," he began, "to go fill his prescription." Then he pulled out his wallet and frowned at the contents. Not horribly much. But he shoved one of the two fifty dollar bills from his tattered wallet in her hand. "It shouldn't be more than that. If it is, can you cover it and I'll pay you back?"

Winry looked at him seriously. "You know, I can help with some of the expenses, Ed," she offered.

He frowned more at her. "No." He didn't need help to pay for food. He was getting a paycheck in a couple days. What he had should cover it.

After many sighs and frustrated looks, Edward, Alphonse, and Winry were walking through the falling snow into the store. Ed took his brother by his jacket sleeve to keep him from walking off in the wrong direction. He wondered if it was a bad decision to have his brother, who was currently on a high dosage of morphine and Vicodin, walking around in the public grocery store. It wasn't easy to deal with someone who was a little more than high.

After twenty minutes of shoving groceries into a cart, Winry caught up with the brothers. She immediately went to Al and wrapped her arm around his. Ed knew it was to keep the younger man going in the right direction, but he couldn't help the frustrating pang of slight jealousy that flared. How pathetic? He was jealous of his brother getting attention from Winry. It was almost enough to make him laugh at himself. But instead, Edward tossed a box a cereal into the cart. "Anything you wanted, Winry?" he asked her before he headed to the checkout line.

She seemed to survey the cart and its contents before shaking her head. "Nope. We're good," she said and followed him to the front, still holding onto Al's arm.

About ten minutes later, Edward was digging through his pockets, trying to reach the total of his groceries of fifty-seven dollars and eighteen cents. He only had another fifty in his wallet. Al, having just been released from the hospital and not one to carry much money on his person, was mostly useless. Ed refused to ask Winry for help. When he looked at the cashier, he could tell she was quickly becoming frustrated. The line behind him was getting longer every couple minutes. When he heard the quiet swish of a card being slid through something and buttons being pressed, Edward looked up at Winry. She was putting her credit card back in her purse while she waited for the transaction to be authorized.

Wordlessly, Edward put the money back in his pocket and bit the inside of his cheek to keep the words mulling in his mind from escaping. They weren't very nice words.

Edward was still fuming when they walked outside. The snow was falling a little harder, covering the parking lot in the fine, white powder. With a grumble, he shifted the groceries in his hand to reach for the car keys. He was almost to the car when he heard Al yell something from behind him.

"Brother!" he shouted.

Ed turned around quickly to see his younger brother kneeling in the snow near the trash can. It either meant that there was something in his brother's system that wasn't agreeing or he'd found—

"A kitten!" Al exclaimed, looking at his older brother.

With a face set to shrivel any flower, Ed went back over to his brother with the groceries still in hand. Winry was standing off to the side, looking amused. "Al, we don't have time for a kitten," Edward said, trying not to fuss at his brother despite his very apparent frustration.

Al looked up at Edward with wide, twinkling eyes. "But, but...it's snowing! Look at it! It's shivering!" To emphasize his point, Al picked up the kitten to show it to Ed. "Can we please take it home?"

Edward growled. Before he could answer, Winry interjected. "Edward, he has a point. It's freezing out here," she said, suddenly beside him.

He turned to look at her. "Winry," he said firmly. "Don't encourage—"

Winry suddenly did something that surprised Edward, and frustrated him even more. She looked passed him at Al and smiled. "Come on, Al, take the cat and we'll drop it off at the animal shelter, then go home. Edward can just get over it." She glared at him when she and Al went over to the car.

Ed stood very, very still and bit his tongue. Tasting his own blood was a lot better than saying the words trying to form and escape his mouth. It took a lot more effort than he would want to admit later to keep from shouting at Winry and his brother at the moment. Mainly, he wanted to yell at Winry until she went deaf. He couldn't really validate a reason to yell at Al because they'd had the kitten fiasco more than once in life.

It was a few more moments before he realized that the car was locked and Al and Winry were standing beside the vehicle. He could have cheerfully left the situation like that until he felt numb, but the ever present reminder that nowhere was safe made him move. Since they'd left his house an hour and a half ago, Edward had felt like he'd been watched. It was a slightly unnerving feeling, and it aggravated him more that he couldn't figure out why he felt so paranoid. He couldn't imagine that Mustang would have a watch put on him and Winry. Nothing more than Al's injury had happened! That was the worst thing. Otherwise, things were fine and dandy. Except that he was ready to kill Winry himself.

In the car, he started the ignition but didn't turn the heater on. Since he'd acknowledged that they were being watched, the adrenalin had been let loose and was making him not in the least bit cold. It was about five minutes later that he saw Winry reach out and turn on the heater. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Only few more minutes to drive with a short stop between, then he could take a hot shower and try to drown himself. Then things would be better. The sooner he forgot about his anger, the sooner he could actually say something.

* * *

Winry sighed. Why did he have to be so moody all the time? And worse, why did he have to refuse help? Guys always thought that asking for help was a _bad_ thing. It was sometimes, but not when they really needed it! Asking for help when they needed it was an action of humility, a show of not being so full of themselves that they could ask for something. Was it really so hard to ask to borrow a couple dollars for groceries? No! She was going to be living there for a couple days, eating their food. Why couldn't she chip in to help with the expense?

She lifted her glass to her mouth as if to take a sip, but looked at Edward over the rim. He was scowling into his plate like it was some horrid abomination that had insulted his deceased, twice removed great-aunt Agatha. Or maybe he was glaring past his plate and into nothing. She just hoped that it really was only nothing, and there were no plans of immature revenge setting in his mind.

When they had gotten home, Edward had tried to beg off for a shower. Winry, being the only other sober person, had put her foot down and demanded that he either cook dinner or talk about his feelings. Needless to say, they'd ended up with a carefully prepared dinner of spaghetti. Of course, Winry had done a lot of it since Edward was practically useless in the kitchen. He'd put water in the pot, dropped noodles in and poured in the sauce. Granted, spaghetti wasn't hard to make, there was still making sure the sauce tasted right, not scorching the sauce, and that the noodles were cooked well. Winry had done the supervising and the stirring. Edward wasn't really fit for cooking, either, since he appeared to be brooding quite heavily. Brooding and cooking never worked out well. Something would get burnt.

"I'm not hungry," the man of her thoughts said suddenly. He pushed his chair back and tossed his napkin on the table only to promptly disappear down the hall without another word. That left Winry alone, since Al had passed out shortly after they had gotten home.

With a great sigh, Winry decided she didn't have much of an appetite, either, after that. Just what was bothering Ed so much, anyway? Had a small animal crawled up his butt and died? That usually set people uncomfortable, and when people were uncomfortable, they were usually pissy.

But Edward was more than pissy. He was pissed off. She wouldn't call it mad, though. "Mad" was more of yelling at stuff and kicking anything that was in the way. "Enraged" brought a person very red in the face to mind. No, Edward was angry. He had hardly said a word since the hospital. She knew that something memorable was coming up in a few days because of his pocket watch, but what exactly escaped Winry. He'd also said the other night that the hospital held bad memories for him. It probably had to do with the accident she'd heard so little about.

She began to wash dishes to take her mind off of things. Cleaning usually did that, at least for a little while. And taking her mind off of things was exactly what she needed. She started to run the water when she heard a cry from the bathroom. Edward must have been taking his shower. It was very tempting to keep the water running, but Winry decided revenge wasn't the way to get Edward to talk to her. It was to wait patiently for him. But she could only wait for so long until she had to pull out the big guns.

Winry looked at the clock on the wall and saw it was about eight-thirty. Still early. Upon further surveying the kitchen, she looked at the stack of papers she hadn't dared to touch earlier. Now, they looked very interesting.

So, deciding that it would keep her busy—and her mind off of things—she went over to the counter and began sifting through the pile. She saw various names scribbled on random pieces of paper, a few absently scrawled words, and some notes on corners and edges of the papers. Then she found something that looked particularly interesting:

"Edward Elric, release from Central Hospital," she read to herself. It was dated for February of three years before. Very intrigued, she began reading the details of his release. Turning further back in the file showed her his injuries and medications. On the last page of the stack, or rather the first page, was the accident. There were pictures of what had been a car in pouring rain. Winry scanned the picture for any street signs to see what part of town it had been in.

Her searching was interrupted when she heard the bathroom door open. She quickly closed the file and shoved it back onto the counter. But, because Fate picked who it liked and when, the file didn't make it all the way onto the counter and fell, bringing other files with it. Winry swore quietly and leaned down to pick up the papers. She had almost gotten them back together when she felt a presence directly in front of her, then heard a clearing of a throat. _Busted,_ she heard her mind say. Slowly, she looked up at Edward. She quickly looked passed his pants to his chest, and eyes lingered there. She forced her gaze to jump to his shoulder and the scars, then finally up to his face. He was looking down at her blankly. A drop of water slid off of his hair and dropped onto her nose.

She was about to explain what she was doing when she realized, it may have been his house and his papers, but she didn't have to explain herself to Edward Elric, even if she had been invading his privacy. So, she coolly picked up the files and set them on the counter. After giving Ed a chilling look, she started to walk past him. Then she felt hot metal grab her arm.

"What were you doing?" he asked. There was an edge to his voice and Winry dared to refer to it as nervous.

She looked at him, still with a gaze that could freeze a volcano, and shrugged. "Cleaning up a mess," she said icily. Then she attempted to pull her arm free of his grasp. She felt his hand tighten on her arm.

"Did you read anything?" he asked, the nervous edge becoming slightly dangerous.

Winry bit her lip. Not because she was mad, but because his grip on her arm was steadily becoming tighter. "Let me go, Edward," she said as softly as she could.

"Did you read anything?" he repeated, louder.

"Edward, let go of my arm! You're hurting me!" she almost yelled, pushing at his metal arm.

He flinched like he'd been slapped and immediately uncurled his fingers. He looked at his hand as if he'd seen it for the first time and turned away from her. Winry sighed and tried to touch his shoulder. But, like so many other times, he moved away and retreated into his dark thoughts. She cursed herself without knowing why she deserved it. If anyone deserved a scolding, it was Edward for not being able to control his fury or his metal limbs.

She wouldn't even try to justify anyone's actions as she went to wash the dishes. Winry decided then that she would have been better off if she'd let the water run. She would have preferred to deal with a yelling Edward than a quietly angry one. It was always worse when someone said nothing, always.

It was nine-thirty when Winry yawned. She had finished washing the dishes and made some edits to her lyrics. Then she'd started planning out a tune in her head by writing down random chords in random order. That was usually how she wrote music. It sounded pretty decent when she played it on the piano, and after arranging a few things, it sounded great. And if it sounded great to her, then it had to sound magnificent to other people. She never regarded her work well unless it sounded really good. Composing was fun, but it was hard to come up with a good, flowing tune that fit the lyrics.

She didn't know why she was so tired. She had taken a nap earlier. Maybe it was just the events of the past couple days catching up with her. Winry let her mind wander and it landed at the sleeping arrangements. Al was still passed out in his room, and was due for more sleep-inducing medication soon. She hadn't seen a spare bedroom earlier when she had explored the house, making the only bedrooms Ed's and Al's. She wasn't sure what Ed would decide, so she would probably do well to ask him.

"Edward?" She turned around on the bar stool and saw him looking thoughtfully at the television. He made a small noise of acknowledgment. "Where am I sleeping tonight?" she asked.

"My room," he said after thinking a moment.

She nodded a little. "Where are you sleeping?"

"My room," he repeated. Winry choked on nothing. Edward made a noise of slight disgust. "I'll put a pillow in the middle. You're not going to sleep on the couch, and neither am I. We'll end up with back problems."

Winry swallowed with effort before saying anything. She tried to say, "Well," but her voice came out in a squeak. She cleared her throat and attempted again. "Well, I'm going to go to sleep now, okay?" She waited for him to acknowledge her, but received only an absent wave of his hand.

She looked down at herself and saw the same clothes she'd been wearing for more than twenty-four hours. She suddenly felt filthy. "Edward."

He didn't look away from the television. "What?"

With a sigh, she crossed her arms over her chest. "Do you have any clothes I can sleep in?" she asked, pushing away any embarrassment that tried to come up.

She knew he wanted to laugh from the way the corner of his mouth twitched. Laughing would have been fine if he didn't have such a bleak expression in his eyes. But he nodded. "Yeah." Ed hoisted himself out of the chair and trudged down the hallway. Winry followed him into his room and stood next to the bed. He went to his dresser and opened up the top drawer. He pulled out a white T-shirt and tossed it to her. Then he closed that drawer and went for another one. The middle drawer produced a pair of sweatpants.

Winry watched him stand up with the pants still in his hand. He walked over to her slowly with an indecisive look in his eyes. He put the sweatpants in her hand, but didn't let go yet. He continued to look at her like he wanted to say something but wasn't sure how to start. She stood, waiting for something, anything, to happen. It wouldn't matter if it was a grumbled apology for being a jerk or some muttered phrase about something. She just wanted to hear him talk to her again, like she actually meant something to him.

It felt like they were suspended in a moment where the boundaries reality normally set upon them were gone. Winry couldn't hear the sound of the television anymore. The lights seemed surreal and dim. Everything around them was muted. But in the small area that allowed for Winry's thoughts to go around, everything else was heightened. She could hear Ed's breathing like his mouth was near her ear. His heartbeat was as loud as if she had her ear pressed against his chest. And if she could hear that well, her own heartbeat sounded like thunder in her ears and her uneven breaths came rapidly. Winry was just sure that something was going to happen.

But as suddenly as that moment had come, it left when he let go of the sweatpants. Any connection they had shared was gone with the two simple words Edward muttered to her: "Good night."

Then he left.

He left her alone, after that unreal moment to suffer in horrid silence and loneliness. She'd felt so whole in those uncountable seconds. She felt like she'd found the thing that she'd been searching for all her life. But the second he had let go, the feeling had gone away. That left one thought on Winry's mind; had he felt it too?

* * *

She didn't know what time it was when she opened her eyes, but Winry knew that what had woken her up was out of the ordinary for her. She quickly opened her eyes, but didn't sit up. She wouldn't move until she'd identified the sound she'd heard. It was almost as dark when she opened her eyes as it had been when they were closed. So she shut her eyes again and listened for the sound. There was only the sound of hers and Edward's breathing. Apparently, he'd crawled into bed after a while. She must have been really tired to have stayed asleep.

There was the sound again. It sounded like a groan. Winry turned onto her other side to face Edward, but came in contact with the pillow he'd promised to put between them. So she leaned up on her elbow and looked down. It was still quite dark, but her eyes were adjusting. After a few moments and noises from Edward later, she could see that he was asleep, but tossing and turning. When he held still long enough for her to look at his face, there was a very distressed expression on his features. Then he opened his eyes suddenly and sat up. Winry sat up, too, and put her hand on his shoulder.

"Edward," she whispered after a moment of hearing his raspy breathing. She watched him grab his knee and bring it in closer to him. He made a few softer noises that were akin to whimpers and it broke Winry's heart.

So, she scooted closer to him and pulled him close. She rested his head at the base of her neck and wrapped her arms around him comfortingly. He was shivering, even though his entire body was hot and sweaty. Winry sighed and kissed his head. "Edward, it's okay," she murmured into his hair. "It's all right."

He shivered for a few more minutes before calming down. He'd apparently fallen back asleep in her arms, but he whispered something in his slumber that made Winry wonder even more what had happened in the accident.

"I'm sorry, okaa-san."

She bit back tears and rested her cheek on his head. Edward wasn't just angry, he was full of guilt.

* * *

**All right. Well, this is probably the last that you all will hear from me in a week. I'm off for Tennessee in about six hours. Whooo...Love y'all. Thanks so much for the positive feedback and kind words! **

**Peace...lurve...reviews:)**


	18. Naked

**Disclaimer: Don't own FMA. Nor do I own the song "Naked," by Avril Lavigne. **

Author's Note: I got a couple comments from you guys about Ed and Winry sharing his bed...there is nothing going on! I mean, he put a freaking pillow between them. I think, if he wanted to do something, he'd've done it already. But alas, he has not! And I don't plan on anything happening, either. Now that that is said, enjoy. Oh, we have 194 reviews up here. Hoping for 200 soon! That will be awesome. Thanks, everyone. :)

Extra note: First couple paragraphs are for you, Shura. hehehe

* * *

Chapter 18: Naked

It was _way_ too early on a Sunday morning for the phone to be ringing, Edward thought as he fumbled for the offending piece of machinery. After two more rings, he found the device and brought it to his ear. He took a quick breath before speaking. "Hello?" he murmured into the phone, barely understandable through his sleep-hazed mind.

"Still asleep? No wonder you're so short!" came a voice Edward remembered he was in no mood to listen to that morning. He would have hung up on the man if a subconscious reminder told him Roy Mustang never called without a good reason. It was Hughes he had to worry about. "You never get any sunshine; it's a wonder you reached five-foot!"

Ed growled. "What do you want? It's barely six." He started to turn on his side to face the door, but a dragging sensation over his chest made him stop.

"There have been more reports of Scar's work, still in your area," the man said in an unbelievably chipper voice for such a dark topic - and for so early in the morning.

Confused, Ed cleared his throat. "Scar?" he questioned.

"Oh," Mustang made a mock-humble cough into the phone, "Hughes and his team formulated a nickname of sorts for him, because of his scar."

At the mention of Hughes, Ed groaned. Unfortunately, that was a bad thing to do when on the phone with a captain who had a dirty mind.

"Edward, where's Winry?"

"STFU," Ed spat compulsively. (Yes, he really said the letters. He does that often in the manga.) "What'd you call for?"

Mustang laughed. There was a nasty, sarcastic edge to his laugh that made Edward's fingers itch to smack off the smirk he knew was on his captain's face.

"All right. Keep an eye out for Scar. He knows you're a cop, thanks to you spectacle at the night club." There was a pause. "He doesn't seem too picky about his victims, as long as their police."

Ed made a manly noise of acknowledgement. "That all?"

"Actually," Mustang began in a completely different tone, one that Edward knew all too well, "I have Hughes here, who would like to—"

Ed hung up the phone before his boss could finish. He dropped the nuisance on the floor and started to settled himself again to go back to sleep. In the process of shifting, he felt the hand on his chest move again. Hesitantly, he looked down at Winry's hand on his bare chest. There was a difference in their skin tone, blatantly so. Her skin was pale, almost pearly, while his was between normal and tanned flesh. For some reason, the contrast just seemed so natural and normal. That was what began to scare Edward.

He was getting used to her. He was used to her being around; he was used to her complaints; he was even used to her PMS! He'd only been around for about a month or so, but that was enough to know what was going on when. She actually wasn't pissy all the time. No, there was one week out of the month where she was pushing intolerable. That week, Edward had stayed in the library or shoved poor Al in front of him.

Ed looked at her and started to chew on his lip. He was trying to decide what to do. He didn't know if he wanted to quit denying his feelings and finally tell her he loved her, or keep lying to himself and finish the case. Both options had upsides and downsides, so he wasn't going to get off easier on either choice. Pros and cons, he told himself. Figuring out the pros and cons of the situation would help. It'd make things a lot easier to figure out if he had it laid out in front of him.

So, he'd start with the cons of telling her. Yes, he was feeling negative that morning. No, it had everything and nothing to do with Mustang's phone call. And maybe a tiny variable had to do with the woman Edward was gazing lovingly at... Okay, maybe _more_ than a tiny variable, but who was counting?

Well, if Ed told Winry he loved her, there was the chance that, once everything was over, she'd drop him like a hot potato. That was a fact that was ever present on his mind, concerning this subect. On the other hand, telling her could mean that something good happened in his life, maybe even something...long-term.

Ed looked off in a random direction and shuddered. Long-term? One word came to mind: commitment. Edward _was_ committed. To his job!

Slowly, he looked back at Winry and sighed. At the moment _she was_ his job.

Moving on.

Not telling her looked almost the opposite of telling her. The upside was avoiding that possible heartbreak if she changed her mind. The downside was maybe missing out on that horrifying, beautiful long-term relationship.

He had a quote from one of his drinking buddies go through his head. "Hey man, you know what? I hate to tell you this, because it really sucks, but...only _Edward_ can make that decision for you."

Ed almost smiled at the memory, but instead scowled. He didn't remember what it concerned really, only that it was horribly true. Only he could make the desicion on whether or not he would tell Winry. He supposed things would come together with time. Hopefully. Until then, Edward was stuck trying to figure it out on his own.

He looked at the clock and saw it was a little after six. It would probably do well for him to get out of bed now, despite going to sleep at one AM. He'd just go to bed early that night. Besides, Al probably needed that stupid Vicodin by now.

So, a little reluctant to leave the warmth, Edward crawled out of bed and pulled the covers up to his pillow, semi-neatly. When he straightened, a twinge of mildly painful sensation went through his back. That was fine; he knew it was from sleeping on the couch yesterday. What worried him was the tingling feeling emanating from his right shoulder. It was unusual, thus unwelcome. Whenever he'd had feeling like this from his shoulder, it had never boded well. It had usually resulted in rushed, expensive visits to his home town to receive expert repair, maintenance, and routine short-guy jokes. But he didn't want to make a visit there with Winry in tow. Ed had put together the pieces a long time ago that the woman he was keeping safe was his mechanic's granddaughter.

Then he caught himself. He didn't even know if his shoulder _was_ damaged. It was no use to fork out a large sum of money he didn't have for a two-way trip for three to see a family reunion. Ed knew it would probably be nice for Winry to see her grandmother again, but it would make traveling difficult when someone wanted her dead. Edward quickly made up his mind to let Winry inspect his arm when she woke up. She _was_, after all, the great Pinako Rockbell's granddaughter. Surely the young blond woman could tell if his arm was damaged.

As Edward went over to his desk to look for some of his case papers, he glanced at his bookcase. There was something wrong. Something was missing...

Upon further investigation, he saw that the photo of him, Al, and his mother was gone. But he didn't puzzle over it much, since Winry had been inspecting the pictures the previous day. It might have fallen behind his bed. So, Ed went on to his desk. The picture would show up. Eventually.

* * *

Somewhere across Central, in a busy building, sat a confused woman, gazing down into her lap. Not only was she confused, she was troubled, as well. She was remembering things she'd never done. Or at least, she didn't think she'd ever done them. For some reason, she remembered a red bathrobe with a black symbol on it. Why that particular object stuck out, she didn't know. It was all somewhere on the disturbing side of realizations and thoughts. 

"Ms. Nichols," a commanding voice said, drawing her from her thoughts.

"Yes, sir?" the woman replied distractedly. She looked up at the rather intimidating man sitting at his desk across the room. The patch over his eye only added to the feeling of pride and power that came from him.

But he smiled. It made him appear a little softer around the edges. "You have a phone call."

She nodded. "Thank you, sir." She placed an item on the desk and stood up. With a hesitant glance at the picture, she shivered when she saw her likeness again. Then she ventured a look at her boss. No matter how much the man smiled, his pride would always show.

* * *

Ed grumbled as he turned his car off. He'd gotten a call from one of Al's friends from college about his makeup work, and had thusly been petitioned to go pick it up, halfway across town during lunchtime rush hour. That had _not_ been what Edward had wanted to do for lunch. It was now one o'clock and he was flustered, aggravated, and hungry. His growling stomach was reminder enough that he hadn't eaten much, if anything at all that day. What he wanted to do was give Al his homework, shove some food down his throat, and then work on Winry's case. He'd neglected that lately, and it needed to be done. 

It wasn't that he was procrastinating, it was just that they hadn't had any leads in the first few weeks of the case. Then suddenly everything had come up; Primus, Quintus, and quite possibly Secundus. Then Edward had been having bad vibes from work lately, too, especially near Mustang's boss' office, Mr. Tertius.

Suddenly, Edward stopped with his hand on the door. Something wasn't right, wasn't adding up... What was it? He thought a moment, but then shrugged it off as lack of food. He always had bad vibes at work.

Ed moved to open the door, but when he moved his arm, it twisted wrong and he suddenly felt another tingle go through his metal limb and down his back. He stiffened as the door opened and bit back a curse. He wouldn't yell, he tried to tell himself, but the pain was pulsing through his head now, too loudly for him to think. He emitted a few sickly sounding noises before going into the house. He shut the door with his foot and tried to take a deep breath. Once the door clicked shut, he let out a curse that would have brought his demise from Winry. As a second thought, he looked around to make sure that she wasn't standing somewhere close by, waiting to chop his head off with a dull butter knife.

Finding that the coast was clear, he made his way to Al's room to give him the papers. Ed would definitely have to have Winry look at his arm pretty soon. Maybe after he ate, he would find her and convince her to take a look at the shoulder joint.

"Hey, Al, you awake?" Edward asked when he opened his brother's door a bit.

"Yeah," Al replied from within.

Edward went into the room and tried to smile, but his arm was still hurting. "Here's your homework and assignments." He put the folder on his brother's desk.

Al was lying on his bed, looking out the window with a sullen expression on his face. Edward pulled the chair out from the desk and placed himself down onto it. "What's up?" he asked, knowing that it was never a good thing to let Al brood. Alphonse was someone who had to talk about his feelings, but always felt awkward bringing it up on his own. The only way for Al to talk about himself was for someone to ask him.

With a sigh, the younger man turned onto his back. He attempted a shrug, but his injured shoulder kept him from doing so properly. Inwardly, Ed grumbled. His brother was being closed-mouthed, so it was something that had to do with him. Though it wasn't always a bad thing, it wasn't usually a good thing, either. Now the next choice was whether Ed wanted to hear it.

"Come on," he found himself pressing, "I can tell there's something on your mind." Forcing his pain to the back of his mind, he smiled.

Al sat up with some effort and looked down in his lap. "It's weird," he mumbled.

Ed chuckled and moved to sit on his brother's bed. "What is?"

Another half-shrug. He opened his mouth to try to speak, but Winry's voice outside the door cut him off.

"Al, do you know if Edward is home yet?" she called. A second later, she poked her head around the door and smiled, looking a little surprised. "Oh, there you are."

Ed scowled at the bed. "What do you need?" he asked. "We're having guy talk." Couldn't she see that he and his brother were having a man-to-man discussion? Why was it that women always seemed to be able to interrupt at the _worst_ possible moments?

"I was just going to let you know that there was some lunch made for you, if you were hungry," she said, looking a little dejected from his tone.

_Lunch_. The magic word to win Edward for as long as it took him to eat. So he smiled at Winry like she was his best friend. "Thanks. I'll get it in a few minutes," he said.

She stood in the doorway for a moment longer before going off to the living room. After a few seconds, they heard the TV turn on. Ed sighed and looked at his brother again. "Well?"

Al shook his head. "Never mind." Then he smiled. "Go eat lunch. She made macaroni and cheese," he said.

Ed frowned a little, but nodded. One of the ways he and Al were alike was that no one could get information out of them, easily, if they didn't want to talk about it. So, it would have been a fruitless effort for Ed to try to pester some facts out of his brother. He made to leave, but his brother's question stopped him.

"What about you?" he asked softly.

Already at the door, Edward looked over his shoulder. "My arm is hurting," he murmured before exiting into the hallway.

Winry was sitting on the couch with her notebook in her lap. The TV was on, but she wasn't paying attention to it. At least, Ed hoped not from the smutty movie that was playing. He merely blinked a few times before picking up the remote and turning the television off. Winry looked up at him, surprised again. "Hi," she said and offered a smile.

Edward put the remote back onto the couch arm. "Hey," he mumbled. Then he went into the kitchen to find a pot of macaroni and cheese on the stove. There was a bowl next to it, and a fork. Edward shook his head, wondering if he would have the heart and peace of mind to let her go if it came to that.

While he was dishing up his lunch, he heard Winry humming a tune and tapping her pen on the paper. He knew she was polishing her lyrics and probably writing down chords to her song. He had never been able to grasp music, and thought highly of those who could recall a certain note upon hearing it. Obviously, Winry was one of those people.

With a sigh, Ed sat at the bar and began to wonder about what Al would have asked him. It could have been any number of things, ranging from a Vicodin induced thought or something serious. Ed figured it would have been something serious, because his brother was pretty good at controlling his impulses. Until it came to abandoned kittens. Then, impulse took over and reason was left behind in the dust. It would really start to bug Edward if he didn't find out soon, but he had no idea where to start figuring it out, aside from it was "weird."

Okay, a lot of things were weird! The people who didn't eat meat were weird. The fact that water was mostly clear with a tiny tint of blue was weird. Edward and Winry's relationship-thing was weird!

Ed scratched his chin at that last thought. Maybe...? Then he shook his head. Nah, Al wouldn't worry about Ed and Winry unless there _was_ something to worry about. Which there wasn't, right? _Right_? He scowled at his food.

"If you don't like it," he heard Winry say from behind him, "then don't eat it."

He turned his gaze on her wordlessly for a moment, then went back to scowling at his lunch. Just to let Winry know that her cooking was fine, he took a bite of the cheesy noodles and went back to his thoughts. He was really wondering what Al would have asked. Maybe he could convince Winry to have a chat with his brother, then interrogate her under any means necessary to find out what they talked about.

Edward snickered at the thought of "any means necessary." He knew Winry was wondering what the heck was going on in his head, so he would take the pleasure of not telling her.

When he finished his lunch, he pushed away from the bar and turned in his seat so he could look at the blond woman. He just looked at her, watching her movements. He knew it was bad for his personal morale of trying to fall _out_ of love, but he didn't care at the moment. He'd had a sucky past few days, so he would do whatever the heck he wanted without hearing any protests from anyone else. At least, that was his preference. If someone wanted to say differently, they could. But Edward would just say, "Screw that," and go on doing things his own way for a while. Unless it came to Mustang. The man had a way to get Ed to do what he wanted without Ed realizing it until it was all over and done with. That brought a little scowl to his face, but he pushed it away. He was thinking about...well, he wasn't really thinking about anything at the moment. He was just looking in some direction with a nice focal point to study.

Edward knew he was making her nervous. She kept flicking her eyes over at him then back at her notebook. She'd only written about two chords in the past three minutes, and Edward knew it wasn't because composing music was hard. It was because he was unnerving her with his heavy stare. It wasn't like he was appraising her physique or anything. No, he'd done that last night. Unless something had changed, there was no need to do that again. He was just watching her. He'd actually watched Winry quite a bit in the month and few days that they had known each other. She had just never realized it. She only realized it now because he was about five feet from her. He was wondering how long she would last until she yelled at him or something.

But surprisingly, Edward was the first to speak.

"Winry?"

She didn't look up. A very relieved expression went over her face. Ed almost smiled. "Yes?" Her voice was soft, and he could tell she was trying to sound a little distant.

He slid off the barstool and sat next to her. "You said your grandmother was a mechanic, right?" he asked casually. Another twinge of pain shot through his arm and back when he shrugged. His shirt was catching on something.

Winry looked at him curiously. "Yeah, why?"

"And you said that you know about mechanics and stuff," Edward said lowly.

Slowly, she nodded. "Why?"

"Could you take a look at my arm, because it's been bothering me," he said, fighting back any slight embarrassment that tried to seep in. They were currently sharing a bed, and he'd walked in on a towel-clad Winry, so there wasn't much secret left to each other. Plus, she'd seen him without a shirt plenty of times. Why was this so different if she was going to look at his shoulder?

He knew why. It was one thing for her to look, but she would also be touching not only around his shoulder, but the metal limb he was slightly sensitive about. It had been a significant emotional event in his life that he hoped only he had to carry the burden of, so it was natural that he had a soft spot for it. Ed gave her his most convincing look, even though he had a sudden insecure feeling about it all. What happened next was something he had _not_ expected.

Winry's eyes became all hopeful and shiny. The biggest smile he'd seen in a few weeks plastered itself over her mouth. To say in short, it was one of the most disturbing things Edward had seen in a while. He was beginning to wonder if asking her had been a bad idea. From the few stories he had heard about Winry, she did love her music. However, she had this underlying passion for mechanics that would surpass her music if it had the chance. A distrusting look came over his face when he looked at her again. She laughed at him.

"Sure," she said, controlling her impulsive expression and emotion. Winry set her notebook on the couch and stood up.

Edward, now genuinely confused, had no idea what to do. Usually when he was at his mechanic's house, there was a little pallet for him to lay on with a little table to place his arm. But, the closest thing he had to a pallet was...nothing. So, he stood up as well and went to the bar, hoping that his quarter of an idea would work.

Winry sat in the seat next to him patiently, with a more or less ecstatic look on her face. It took a moment for Ed to realize what she was waiting for. Then it occurred to him that he was wearing a pullover shirt, and too much movement in his arm would cause the artificial nerves to twinge. So, with one hand, he reached behind his neck and tugged on the collar of his shirt.

About two minutes and a lot of swearing later, Edward placed his left elbow on the counter and leaned his chin in his palm. Winry tossed his shirt over the bar into a pile of dirty clothes, then clapped her hands together like it was a job well-done. Ed had a feeling he would never live down having to have help getting his own shirt off with both arms. He'd had plenty of help dressing and undressing during his hospital and limb surgery days, but lately? He shook his head.

"Do you have any tools handy?" Winry asked after inspecting the plates covering the wires.

He nodded. "There's a little red toolbox in the island," he told her, inclining his head a little towards the approximate location. "Bottom drawer."

In a minute and some seconds, Edward sat a little nervously with Winry beside him, poking metal objects among his electric nerves. For some reason, it just didn't seem like the smartest idea, but it was too late now. He just had to suck it up and hope (and pray) she really knew what she was doing. He sat for quite a few minutes, listening only to silence while Winry poked around in his arm. He hesitantly stole a glance at her when his nervous tension became too much.

"So?" he asked, voice cracking a little from the lack of talking and moisture in his mouth.

She looked up as if she'd just noticed him there. Edward didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. "Who made this for you?" she asked. "The style looks like my grandmother's work."

Debating whether or not to tell her it _was_ her grandmother's work - he didn't know what type of reaction he'd get - he did a one-shoulder shrug, much like Al's earlier. "A good friend of mine from my hometown," he answered nonchalantly. "She does armor work, and wanted a challenge. I proved one for her." He heard Winry laugh from beside him.

"A good challenge. It's beautiful," she commented and continued to poke around, twisting things here or there.

Ed cleared his throat. "So, ah, can you tell what's broken?" he asked. "_If_ it's broken?"

She laughed again. "It's definitely got some damage to it. I'm surprised you didn't notice it sooner. There's a dent in one of the plates, and some wires rubbed on an edge and frayed."

"Can you fix it?" Ed was afraid to hope, because the possibility that they would have to go see her grandmother was still hanging in the air.

"Of course!" she exclaimed. "My grandmother did stuff like this all the time, and I helped her a lot when I lived with her, after..." She trailed off and started playing with the wires.

Ed furrowed his brow. He was about to ask, "After what?" but he had a feeling he already knew what the end of her sentence would have been. So, instead, he nodded and let her continue her work in silence.

* * *

About an hour later, Edward stood up and stretched his arms out. Then he crossed his right arm over his chest, hooked his left arm around it, and pulled it closer, seeing how the docking port felt on his shoulder. A little pull on his skin, but not enough to hurt. The metal in his arm and the metal in the port creaked when they touched. 

"What do you think?" Winry asked hopefully.

Ed smiled at her. "No pain," he told her. "Thanks, Win." Before he could think of his action, or even try to stop himself, Edward leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

Before he could recover from that unexpected action, he felt Winry wrap her arms around his waist to keep him close to her. He looked at her softly, not even realizing he was looking up slightly. He was suddenly caught up in a moment that was bigger than both of them. He lifted his hand to her cheek and rubbed his thumb lightly over her lips.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as he neared her face, "that I keep confusing you like this." He moved his hand further into her hair.

Ed didn't give her a chance to respond before he covered her mouth with his. He kissed her as gently as he could at that moment. It wasn't only because gentleness was what Winry needed, it was also for him to know what he wanted, if he wanted this for however long it would last. Slowly and at a leisurely pace, he deepened the kiss and very soon lost himself in the soft passion and the emotions that were welling in him. When Edward felt his control slipping away, he pulled back from her and looked away for a moment. Winry lifted his face again with a smile on her features. Wordlessly, she began the kiss again and Edward felt it in himself to take the lead of it all once more.

He was just amazed by it all. Here he was, a twenty-one year old man who had problems trusting, but found himself wordlessly handing his heart to a woman he'd only known for a month or so. He just felt so bare around her, like all of his secrets were open for her to see and look at. Normally, it would have bothered him, but for some reason, it just felt so right for him to feel that way around her. It was a new feeling that he couldn't escape from. If he could, though, Edward didn't know if he would want to. He wondered if Winry sensed how he felt, and what she thought about it. It bothered him a little to know that she could have an opinion of him that she didn't share. It bothered him more that the opinion could be good or bad.

Edward pulled away, but kept her close to him. "Winry," he whispered, his voice a little hoarse. "I..." He wanted to say something, anything meaningful. He wanted to tell her he cared for her, that he wanted to spend an indefinite amount of time with her. He wanted to tell her he loved her. But the words wouldn't come. Nothing came to mind, and nothing came out of his mouth except a soft, quite sigh. He kissed her again, momentarily, and then just held onto her.

How was it he could be so in love and still doubt that she loved him back? How was it that she could still stand him after all of the things she'd learned about him? How was it that, even though Edward felt so bare, so naked around her, he could still hold onto her like he was now?


	19. Name

**Disclaimer: Don't own FMA. Nor do I own "Name" by the Goo Goo Dolls.**

Author's Note: I give you all free reign to shout and swear at me in your reviews, but keep it to a minimum please. These past few days have been really sucky, thus the length, or lack thereof, in this chapter.

**Chapter 19: Name**

The next few days went on much the same as the past two. Alphonse received his usual dose of Vicodin at regular intervals of the day; Edward worked intently on Winry's case file, putting puzzle pieces together; and Winry worked on writing her songs and putting tunes to them. At least, that was what went on at the surface. If one looked deeper at each individual's actions, however, they would see the underlying tension.

Al was stressed for various reasons of concern for his brother and Winry's relationship together and the fact that he was missing numerous classes at college. Edward was frustrated at the case file because it was a very difficult puzzle; things just weren't adding up. Winry was...well, she was worried. For the past four nights, not including their second night there, Edward had half-woken up from a nightmare, calling lightly for his mother. And who had been there to calm him down all five times? Winry. She hadn't had the will to bring it up to him over the past few days and it was now Thursday. Something about that day just rang for them to talk. About what, though?

It was a little after lunchtime that Winry finished cleaning up the kitchen. Yes, she was cleaning again. Well, the kitchen had needed it! Everyone had neglected to do dishes for a couple days, and it was getting rather nasty near the sink. So Winry, as the "woman of the house," had taken it upon herself to conquer the mess that was spawning bacteria. The last thing she needed was a sick Edward and Alphonse. Especially Edward. He'd been really pissy lately. Yes, it was possible to tell when he was pissy from just plain frustrated. There was a big difference. When he was frustrated, he would nitpick about the smallest things and be quick to yell. When he was pissy, he was even quicker to yell and he would get mad very easily. But, he was pushing depressed at the moment.

Over the past few days, his mood had been steadily darkening. It was only December fourth...there was still sixteen days until...well, Winry didn't know what, exactly, but she had a mind to figure it out.

He'd been waking up in the middle of the night still, and she'd had to calm him down. Those were the only times that she'd offer him comfort, because those were the only times that he would show weakness. Otherwise, she hadn't spoken to him that much during the days. Not that it _bothered_ her, really. It just irked her a bit that she couldn't find the gut to even ask him about December twentieth. But she would now! No doubt about it, she told herself, he was going to talk or she'd die trying.

Winry dried her hands on a dish towel and put on her battle face. Okay, well, maybe not a battle face, but it was determined enough. Hopefully it'd get her to Edward's study without chickening out again. Yes, she had tried numerous times to talk to him. No, she'd never made it to the point of knocking on the more-often-than-not shut door. But today, she would triumph, whether Ed liked it or not.

She stood before the door nervously. A hundred conclusions for this action rushed around her head. Would he shout at her? There was no question on whether he'd swear. But whether it was at her or something else was what she wondered. She could take someone yelling and swearing at her; she'd yell and swear right back. She had quite the vocabulary of expletives, and there were days she actually was proud of it. _Today might be one of them_, she thought grimly as she rubbed her damp palms on her pants.

Hesitantly, she lifted her hand to knock on the door. The first three knocks were barely audible taps on the door. _This is silly_, she said to herself with a roll of her eyes. So she summoned up the rest of her courage and rapped on the door so loudly it scared her. She hadn't meant to knock _that_ loud! Well, too late now.

"Yeah, what?" Edward called from within. There was impatient tone to his voice. That set Winry's blood to frustrated. She wouldn't take that from him.

So she opened up the door with a scowl on her face. "We're going to talk," she said firmly, daring him to argue. When she set her gaze on him, he was leaning back in his chair, looking very, very amused at her.

"Are we?" he questioned, twirling a pen. He wasn't just amused, he was taking pleasure in seeing her frustrated. The jerk.

She nodded and placed herself on his desk. "Yes, we are." Winry added a tone of authority to her voice. He might have been older, but it was only by a few months. And it was all in the maturity, really! If he wanted to act like a child, she'd act like an adult.

Ed seemed to understand her thoughts, because he immediately looked away and began to retreat back to his shell. "What about?" he asked in the tone she found was reserved for his depressed moments. It sort of took her by surprise that he could go from so amused and enjoying her annoyance to being wary of his own ground.

But Winry forced herself to remain adamant, though, refusing to give in to his sudden show of sullenness. So she took a breath, finding it hard to begin now. Why did he have to do that? Why did he have to know that becoming open to hurt like that would keep her from being able to hold onto her anger? She worked her mouth for a few minutes until finding something to say. "What's December twentieth?" she asked outright. She fought not to feel the sudden emotion of dread for the answer she would probably receive.

Edward froze when he heard her question. "None of your--"

"_It is_ my business, Edward!" she suddenly shouted. Then she put herself back on the desk quietly, taking deep breaths. "We're involved, whether you like it or not, and it helps when I know what has gone on in your life. I know what comments I can or can't make about a subject. So please," she murmured, "please, tell me." Then she paused, as did he. Silence reigned for a few moments until Edward spoke.

"Why do you want to know?" he asked quietly, still not looking at her.

"You've been waking up in the middle of the night; I'm worried," she told him easily, though she was really debating on whether or not to retreat while she could.

Ed sighed loudly. Winry thought for all of thirty seconds he would tell her. Then he opened his mouth. "I don't want to talk about it," he told her, standing up. He grabbed a coffee mug and exited his study, leaving Winry on his desk, spluttering like a tea kettle. She swore, using the softest of her expletives.

"Edward Elric!" she shouted, running after him. She caught up with him as he was about to start a pot of coffee. He stopped moving whenever she stepped onto the tile floor. Winry was about to speak again, but when she looked at him and how he was holding himself, she stopped. His shoulders were slumped down and his head was bowed forward. If she looked hard enough, she thought she could see him shaking a little bit. "Edward," she said softly, coming up behind him. She lifted her hand to his shoulder.

He shirked away. "Winry, just..."

She scowled and turned him around. "Edward, will you just stop?" she asked, putting her hands on his shoulders. "Will you just stop and talk to me?" Winry looked at him sternly.

He returned her gaze with a little less force. Then he sighed. "My mom died that day," he murmured.

Winry softened her gaze immediately. She was debating on whether or not to just hug him then or to wait for him to take the first step. But she couldn't really see him falling into her arms pitifully, sobbing and begging for comfort. So, she hesitantly slid her arms around his shoulders and pulled him close. But then he did something that honestly and sincerely hurt Winry.

Edward pulled away with more or less a disgusted look on his face. "Don't feel sorry for me," he spat nastily. "You knew my mother died. What's the big deal about it now?" He turned away. Winry reached out again, trying to touch him. He shirked away. "Just go away."

"Edward..."

"Go away!" he shouted, turning to glare at her. "It doesn't matter! She's already dead! I couldn't save her; no one could have!" Ed laughed cryptically. "I tried, but it was just too much. It was my fault."

She sighed. "Edward, please...," she whispered. "Don't do this."

He ignored her. "And you were just _dying_ to know, weren't you?" He threw his hands in the air, still laughing. There was just a little edge of insanity to his delivery.

But Winry had heard enough. She let her hand fly freely against his cheek, then threw herself against him. "Shut up," she whispered coarsely. "Just be quiet and let me hold onto you." She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and gave him no choice but to either stand there or hold onto her as well.

It seemed to be the latter as his arms went around her waist. Winry felt him begin to shake in her embrace. It had been too much for him, she thought, to talk about it so much and in that manner. It was the least she could do now to be there for him, since she had been the one to evoke the emotions that were showing. And it broke her heart to bear witness to such raw feeling, especially from Edward, as he began to cry quietly against her shoulder. She had never thought she'd see the day the man would finally cry and let go.

If he could have just done it sooner! Winry would have been there for him! Even if she couldn't have offered more comfort than that, she would have let him hide from the world for a while, just long enough to accept things, and do what he needed to. He needed to at least come to terms with the world that had forced him to grow up too fast. She didn't have the entire story, but she could tell that's what had happened. He and Al had been thrust into the cold world and been forced to grow up and deal with life as it came.

But Edward didn't have to do that now, not all the time. He could escape for a while and talk about it, couldn't he? And after it was all said and done, they wouldn't have to talk about it anymore. It'd all be okay. Right?

It was soon after, too soon, that Edward pulled away from Winry, looking very composed. But inwardly, she knew he was ready to burst, ready to scream. She sighed. Why did he have to do that? Why did he have to believe he had to do things on his own? Winry was a good listener.

"I need to talk to Al," he said softly and left the kitchen. Winry dared to follow him down the hall.

She waited until he was in Al's room with the door mostly shut before sneaking over. She had missed something, because the next thing she heard was Al shouting, "What!"

Edward shushed him. "Be quiet, will you? I don't need her to hear and try to stop me!" he hissed.

Winry imagined Al standing up in frustration. "She should try to stop you, Edward! You're her bodyguard, you can't just walk out right now!" he replied in a loud whisper.

He was leaving? Why? The jerk. How could he leave right now! He was supposed to be taking care of her! How could he do that when he was walking out on them! She would pick a bone with him, close to the anniversary of his mother's death or not. But then Ed spoke again.

"I can't do it, Al. I thought I could, but I just can't. I hadn't thought the case would take this long," Edward muttered. Winry heard the sound of bedsprings and figured he had sat down on Al's bed. "I just need to go for a couple days, that's all." _That's all_? Puh-lease. A couple days was a couple days too long for Winry's taste! Sure, she would go outside and think for a little while, until Edward cursed at her to get back inside, but that was because he was there and she could count on him doing that. But if he _left_, the feeling of safety she had would dissipate and she'd become a nervous reck - again! Just like she had been before he'd turned up! No, he couldn't leave!

But Winry heard Al sigh. "Fine. Go. Be quick," he submitted.

Thinking quickly, Winry pushed up from the floor and bounded down the hall, back into the living room, vaulted over the couch, and pretended she was doing a crossword puzzle by the time Edward stepped out of Al's room. It was very hard to appear like nothing was wrong when she felt like throttling her bodyguard, but she somehow managed it. Probably because he didn't immediately walk into the living room. Instead, he went back to his room, probably to pack his bags.

Contrary to her earlier thoughts, Winry spat. He could go if he wanted. The idiot. So he couldn't deal with a little pressure? Fine, who needed him anyway? She didn't, that was for sure. She didn't care if he left. For all Winry knew, he would cave under gunpoint and hand her over to the badguys to save his pansy--

"Asteroid," she suddenly heard Edward say over her shoulder.

Winry shrieked none too softly and put a hole in the newspaper. She took a breath to keep from using another expletive. "Edward!" she growled. "Go away. I'm mad at you."

She heard him make a noncommital noise at her. "I am going. Bye," he announced promptly before walking into the snowy outside. The door closed with a loud slam. Winry finally swore.

"Jerk," she muttered. Then she threw the newspaper down on the coffee table. "Alphonse!" Winry jumped back over the couch and burst into the young man's room. "Where is your brother going?" she demanded.

Al shrugged and avoided her gaze. "Out?"

"You're a sucky liar," she told him. "Where?"

"Out," Al insisted again. "What's for dinner?"

Winry frowned. He was changing the subject. Of course. She nodded. "I don't know yet," she replied softly, giving in - for the moment. That wasn't the last Ed had heard of her.

Three hours later, the phone rang and Al answered it before Winry could get to it. So she quietly picked up the handset to listen in. Of course, it was _him_. Who else? The phone hadn't rung but a few times in her almost week long stay in the Elric household.

"Is she around?" Edward asked anxiously.

Winry imagined Al shaking his head. "No, she yelled for a little while after you left, made dinner, and I haven't seen her since," he replied.

Probably because she'd locked herself in Ed's room with a few day's worth for junk food. She would wait it out. He'd come home. Eventually. "Well...did you tell her?" There was an especially nervous sound to Ed's voice. Dear God, was there something else to the equation or was he just nervous because he thought she was out for his head?

"No," Al said again, "I just said you went out."

"For three hours? Alphonse, I don't even spend three hours shopping for Christmas presents for people at work," Edward said.

Another image of Al came to mind, rolling his eyes at his brother. "Well, I didn't know what to say! She looked like she was going to tear my head off!" He sounded fearful for his life. Winry wanted to laugh.

"Whatever. Well, I'm at the hotel near the station. I have a week's reservation. Think you can handle her that long?" Ed sounded pitiful again. He deserved it.

"I'll try," Al promised. Winry rolled her eyes, and in the midst, her foot bumped the sidetable, almost upsetting the lap.

And for some reason, both men knew it wasn't on their sides of the phone. "I gotta go," Edward said. "Take care, Al."

"You too, Brother." Al hung up. Winry waited for the second click, but it didn't come. She swore under her breath for the fourth time that day.

"That wasn't a pretty word for a woman to say," Edward commented quietly.

"Leaving wasn't a nice thing for a man to do," she replied critically. "You're a jerk," she announced suddenly. "Why did you leave!"

There was silence in which Winry waited to hear a dial tone. But instead came Edward's voice. "I'm sorry. I'll be home in a couple days," he told her. Then came the click. It was so ominous, a shiver ran down Winry's spine.

She had a feeling something very, very bad was going to happen very, very soon.

**omgz, Sooo sorry this was such a short chapter. But you guys have no frickin clue what's been going on lately. I honestly wrote this like, Saturday and Sunday, in between homework, dealing with my parents and sister, and whatever else came up. And it's about 10 on Sunday night as I write this, fresh out of ideas to use for this! I don't want to use what I had already, saving it for the next chapter, but I will try to get something out this week, but don't hold me to it! Give me suggestions, please! I'm running a little dry. This story might go on Christmas break at this point. Check the LJ for more details sometime...they'll be up. And sorry again. Love you all. Happy holidays.**


	20. Picture

**Disclaimer: I don't own FMA or anything original from it, not do I own the song Picture by Kid Rock and Sheryl Crow, or I'll Be Home For Christmas. **

Author's Note: Yay! A chapter! See, in all it's shiny updated glory. Hope you all likey.

Chapter 20: Picture (I'll Be Home For Christmas)

* * *

For the next few nights, Winry cried herself to sleep. She hadn't expected to be so upset over his absence; the tears had been very unexpected the first night. The second night, she'd been scolding herself for being so emotional over someone being so selfish and immature. By the third night, she'd stopped being surprised, but not feeling stupid. On the fourth night, she'd just accepted that she was sad and angry that he was gone. The fifth night, that night, it was eleven o'clock and tears had yet to come. Winry personally felt it was a vast improvement. Maybe she was really starting to accept things easier.

Accept what, though? She'd done a lot of thinking about their relationship, or what ever it was they had. On what was there, she couldn't think of horribly much, aside from those occasional kisses from him and her feelings. But for what _wasn't_ there, it almost made Winry feel bad for actually saying that they had a relationship. But it was mostly on Edward. Winry tried her best to be a girlfriend, inexperienced at it as she was. She knew Edward had had relationships in the past and that bothered her.

Winry _knew_ that, in his previous relationships, there had been affection and communication and...and everything they didn't have! She sniffed and swiped at her nose softly. Why was she any different from the other girls he'd been with? Was she not as special? Was she more special? What was it?

Slowly, Winry sat up and turned on the lamp. She reached for the phone and the crinkled sheet of paper. She stared down at the numbers, deep in thought.

Earlier in her hellish few days, Ed had called with his hotel and room number. Winry had listened in again, putting the phone on mute that time. Edward had given the information to Al and waited for his brother to hang up. Winry had waited, too, to hear the second click or a dial tone, but neither had come. Instead, she had heard Edward's voice.

"You can call me, too, if you need to," he'd told her sullenly. She'd replied nastily, but the mute button had still been on, thankfully. "Goodbye, Winry."

She fought back a pitiful sob. How could he tell she'd been there? She hadn't made any noise. Maybe he'd just guessed? But how? She wanted to tell herself that he did care for her, and he had some sixth sense when she was near or something. But that was too far fetched for even _her_ to believe. She settled for him just being Edward. That was it.

Winry continued to stare at the paper, like she'd done many a time over the past two days. She'd been trying to work up the courage to call him, just to say "hi" or something. But whenever she'd go to dial the first number, her hands would become so shaky it'd be hard for her to even hold the phone. That had been sign enough that she couldn't do it. But that night, she would! She'd call him and...what would she do? Beg him to come home? Confess her undying love—again—and tell him she needed him? That wouldn't do. He probably didn't want to hear that. It was eleven-fifteen; he was probably sleeping.

Oh well.

So, with a sigh, Winry punched the buttons into the phone with a slightly steady hand and brought it to her ear. It rang a few times, long enough for her to lose her nerve again. She was about to hang up when a sleepy voice answered with, "This is Jacob at Central Motel, what do you need?"

Winry stammered for a few seconds. "Could you, ah, could you connect me to room twenty-four?" she asked finally. She was beginning to shake all over and her throat was aching from the tightness. Would she be able to even talk to him?

"Hold on just a minute." The line clicked and, in a few short seconds (too short, it seemed), there was ringing again.

Winry took a very deep breath and let it out slowly. She could do this. She could talk to him. It was just Edward. She'd talked to him plenty of times, right? What was so different this time?

Was it that she was feeling heartbroken and in pieces?

The phone kept ringing, and Winry was beginning to think he wouldn't answer until she heard a loud clattering noise. Then she heard a familiar curse that made her heart warm. Pathetic? Yes. In love? Oh yeah. That was her Edward.

"Hello?" he muttered sleepily.

Winry's breath quickened. "Hello, Edward," she said softly, trying not to sound completely pitiful.

There was a pause, in which she wondered if he had gone back to sleep. But she knew better; he was gathering his surroundings. "Winry?" She made a small noise in acknowledgment and imagined him sitting bolt upright. "What is it? What's wrong?" he asked, sounding fully alert now.

Winry smiled a little to herself. "Nothing's wrong," she replied quietly. "I just...I wanted to talk to you." She heard blankets rustle as he laid back down. Then he swore again.

"God, Winry...you scared me." He took a deep breath. "What time is it?"

She bit back tears. "A little after eleven." God help her, she was going to cry. She was just so happy! He was talking to her, almost like he used to talk to her.

Apparently, Ed heard the emotion in her voice because he sighed. "Winry, what's wrong?" he asked again, sounding genuinely concerned.

There was nothing else to tell him but the truth, she figured. "I miss you," she managed over her emotion. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, but she wasn't sobbing. That was a good thing.

There was silence. Winry sniffled a little, trying to stop the tears. They were silent for a solid minute before Ed broke the silence. "I miss you, too," he whispered.

"Come home," she said impulsively. "Please." She took a deep breath, still trying to calm herself down. It was just Edward, she reminded herself. And he would still do whatever he wanted, never minding anyone else's plans or requests. "Please," she breathed. But she still had to try.

Winry heard him shivering. He seemed at a momentary loss for words. Was he still angry with her? She wouldn't apologize, but she did feel bad for forcing the information out of him. "I can't," he finally murmured.

Winry bit back the reaction to shout. She breathed again. "Why not?"

"I just...I can't, Winry. Not yet. Give me a couple more days, all right? I promise I'll be home before Christmas," he told her.

"I want to see you," she whispered. "I want to see you so badly, but Al won't let me go." A sob was working its way up, but Winry fought it. She wouldn't sob on the phone with Edward. He was probably getting frustrated enough as it was with her crying in his ear.

He sighed. "I'm sorry. I can't do anything about that," Edward murmured. "Winry, just..."

"Are you going to stay until the twentieth?" she asked, her voice wobbly.

A pause. "I don't know."

Winry bit her lip. She wanted to tell him to come home and they would talk, work things out. But she knew he'd hang up on her. There were so many things she wanted to tell him, but she just couldn't. But there was one thing she could tell him...one thing she knew would touch him, no matter what. "I love you," she murmured.

She imagined him nodding a little. "I know, Winry, I know," he replied, just as softly. "I'll be home soon, okay?"

"Okay," she said through tears.

"Good night, Winry. Go to sleep."

She smiled. "Good night, Edward." She heard him hesitate to hang up, but eventually, the click came.

Instead of feeling despair that he was probably across town in some shabby hotel washing over her, Winry felt at peace, with Edward and herself. Finally, she had worked out some of their problems. But Lord knew that they had tons of others.

That night, as Winry's head hit Edward's pillow, she slept peacefully.

* * *

Al sighed two nights after Winry's phone call to Edward. Of course, Al was only faintly aware of the call. He'd heard Winry talking, but could have assumed she was talking in her sleep. And he wasn't sighing because he'd just taken his last Vicodin, either. (Edward had "lost" a few of them, or so he claimed.) No, Al was sighing because he was worried about his brother and Winry's relationship. He didn't want to become an uncle, and he really didn't think Ed was ready to become a father. Though he had no proof whether they had, well...done anything, they were _sharing a bed_. That was all Al needed to worry.

And that's what he would have asked his brother the other day, if he hadn't lost his nerve. Yes, he had problems talking to his brother about certain things; the accident, why his right arm was different from his left (though he had his suspicions), and Edward's relationship with Winry. Those were just a few of the things. There were a couple other objects to discuss, but they never really bothered Al unless he was presented with the obstacle.

So, with the question of their relationship on his mind, Al went to Edward's room and knocked. It was kind of late, and he hoped Winry wasn't asleep. He knew she was very upset about Ed's departure, but he hadn't had enough pluck to talk to her about it. Al wasn't upset, he was nervous. He knew where all the firearms were located throughout the house, and he knew how to use them. He just wasn't sure if he _could_, if the time came that he had to.

"Come in," Winry called from within.

Al opened the door slowly. When he saw Winry, he noticed she wasn't looking as sad as she had in the past couple days, which was a good sign. But then it could also be bad...he didn't want her to get hopes up about something that wouldn't happen. Exactly what she could get her hopes up about concerning Edward, who knew? But she obviously believed there was something. However, Al wouldn't dash whatever happiness she'd managed to find in the past few dark days.

"What's up, Al?" she asked. She looked up from the papers she was reading. They were obviously Ed's, and she'd obviously been cleaning because the desk in the far corner was no longer a pile of papers, but had a few neat stacks.

"I, ah, have a question," he began, sitting on the edge of the bed. "And I'm not quite sure how to ask, really."

Winry smiled a little, though he could tell she was confused. "Well, I have an answer, but I'm not quite sure how to tell you, really." She laughed.

Al found it hard to believe that he'd revered her as someone better than he was just two months ago. Not that he was dissing her or anything, but he'd just had her seeming so...unreal that, when he'd met her, it had been a big shock to get to know her. But now, he could talk with her like they were ordinary friends with ordinary lives.

They may have been friends, but their lives were far from ordinary at the moment. In so many ways their lives were pushing extraodrinary, Al didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"What is it?" Winry asked, smiling encouragingly. He knew it was hard for her to smile at the moment and he praised her for being able to do so.

"I'm worried about Edward," Al began. He held up his hand so Winry wouldn't speak yet. "And you. Both of you." He nodded, thinking it was going well.

Winry looked at Al with an even more confused smile. "W-Why? Just because he's gone? You should know better than anyone else he'll be all right and come back when he's ready." She sounded very accepting of the situation, much on the contrary to the past couple days.

Al sighed. Why was it harder to say it? He'd played through the conversation numerous times in his head, and it suddenly wasn't going in the right direction. So he moved to stand up. "This is stupid," he mumbled.

Winry grabbed his hand. "Wait. Do you mean...are you asking if we've ever...?" She trailed off, blushing furiously.

Al felt uncomfortable now, but he nodded sheepishly.

A strained laugh escaped her throat, but Winry no longer looked confused. She looked like she was feeling a little more than awkward. "Um, no," she answered. "No, we've never done anything. I mean, he's kissed me a few times, but..." She shrugged with an embarrassed smile.

Al nodded, feeling embarrassed as well. "Right. Sorry." He stood up again. "Just asking." He made to leave, but Winry's voice, suddenly sober and calm, stopped him.

"But I do love him," she murmured.

Not having anything to say, really, Al nodded and left.

* * *

Winry sighed contentedly as she breathed the cold air in the park. She'd finally convinced Al to let her go outside, and she was supposed to be meeting Edward in a few minutes. She checked her watch. It was a few minutes until noon. When she'd called Edward the previous night after that awkward talk with Al, they had arranged to meet each other in the park and go for lunch somewhere, to talk things over. _Edward_, actually, had proposed the idea. That had left Winry stammering for speech. But anyway, there she was, waiting.

After about five minutes and still no Edward, Winry sighed. It was beginning to snow again. She didn't want to think that, if it had been summer, it would have been raining. It just wasn't fun to stand in the rain. Snow was okay, though. Just as long as it didn't start as a blizzard, she'd be fine.

People were starting to leave. She was getting nervous. Where was he? Al was across the street, watching her like a hawk. She could feel his eyes boring into her from behind. So she turned around so she could shrug about Edward's whereabouts. But she didn't see Alphonse in the window of the café. Where was he, then? Great, both men were missing. What was she going to do, now?

Winry was about to walk across the street when she felt someone's hand close over her mouth. The force from the pull made her fall backwards against that person's chest. She figured it was Edward playing a trick on her, but the person's chest against her back felt different; broader and stronger. Winry looked up a little and saw an angular face. She wanted to scream, but the hand over her mouth kept her from alerting someone to her distress.

"Winry," the person whispered harshly. The red eyes began to glare down at her. "Winry," he whispered again, but it sounded like Alphonse.

* * *

"Winry, wake up!"

Her eyes shot open from the dream to reveal Alphonse standing by the side of the bed with his hand over her mouth so she wouldn't shout. Winry looked at him with wide eyes and tried to speak, but it came out as garbled noises.

"Shh," he hissed, bringing his other hand to his mouth. "There's someone in the house."

Winry choked. Did he just say...there was someone in the house? As if to answer her unspoken question and back up Al's phrase, there was a crash from the kitchen. An alarmed yell tried to escape, but Al shushed her again.

"Be quiet," he advised when he let go of her mouth. Then he turned to the side table and opened the drawer quietly. Winry looked in and saw a handgun and a few extra clips for it. Some stray bullet were rolling around, as well. Al reached in and grabbed the gun and a clip, checked the amount of bullets, and then shoved the clip into the handle of the gun. "Get a coat."

Winry, too stunned to reply, only reacted and ran over to the closet. She forced herself not to panic. They were going to get out just fine, the gun was just a precaution. Al would wait until the person went into another room and then they'd run out, right? _Right_? When she looked at Al after she had found a coat, Winry saw the serious look on his face. She didn't know what he was planning, but she had a feeling she couldn't like it.

"Al?" she asked when he led her to the bedroom door. "What are you going to do?"

He shushed her once again and opened the door a little. "Just be quiet and do what I tell you," he murmured. He sounded like his brother. Just what Winry needed; _two_ obnoxious, bossy men.

But she nodded, not in the mood to argue. So she waited for Al to take a lead. He peeked out of the door, then grabbed her hand. "Come on," he whispered and pulled her out with him into the hallway. "When I came in to wake you up, he was in the basement." He looked around. "Hopefully he's still down there."

The two ran out into the hallway and towards the living room. The door to the basement was directly to the left once they entered the living room. Winry saw Al look around the corner, listening attentively for any signs of life. When he heard none, he pulled her along with him towards the front door. But then a commanding voice stopped them.

"Stop," was all it took. Both, Al and Winry stopped in their tracks. Winry heard Al cock the gun and slowly turned around.

"Al," she whispered, touching his arm. He ignored her.

"What do you want?" Al asked, still keeping the gun at his side.

The intruder seemed to smirk. "Where is Edward Elric?" he wanted to know.

Winry gasped a little, but remembered that she was supposed to be quiet. She saw Al shrug. "I don't know," he said. "Who're you talking about?"

"I don't want to hurt anyone else, but as long as you are in my way," the man said, stepping out of a shadow in the kitchen, "I will be forced to kill you." Winry fell completely silent when she saw the silhouette of the man. He was huge! Broad shoulders, tall frame, muscular arms. His hair was spiky and looked like icicles growing off of his head, glowing in the late night moon behind him. He had the same build as the man in her dream. Maybe it had been an omen or warning?

"Go, Winry," Al murmured, shoving back at her.

She didn't think; she acted. Winry turned around and ran for the front door. Then she heard the man in the kitchen kick off from the tile towards Al. Faintly, the sound of Al raising the gun hit her ears, but she didn't stay around long enough to find out what happened. She ran outside towards the driveway. Edward had taken the car, of course. What now? _Walk_ to get help? Winry looked around again in a panic, searching for anything that would assist her and Al. She saw nothing and cursed. What luck!

Then she heard creaking off towards the garage. She had never gone in the garage, since it had always been too cold, but the door was opening and she saw a lot of junk piled up. And, emerging from the depths of boxes and collected items, was Al, riding a motorcycle. He advanced it to Winry and tossed a second helmet to her. "Get on!" he shouted over the rumble of the engine.

Winry thought quickly and caught the helmet. Quickly, she pulled the helmet over her hair and straddled the little seat behind Al. She put her arms around his waist just in time as he revved the bike out of the driveway with squealing tires and burning rubber. The torque knocked her head back but she fought the force and put her cheek on Al's back as he turned corners wildly. She didn't have to guess where they were going. It was either the police station, Roy Mustang, or Ed's hotel. She was nervous about all of them.

Then, as she began to calm down from the very, very chilled air whipping her face under the helmet and flipping her hair around her, Winry began to wonder _what_ on earth had gone on back at the house. It hadn't been some routine burglar; he'd specifically asked for Edward Elric. Who could it have been? The man had seemed vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place where he would have been familiar from. But she was _positive_ she'd seen him, somewhere, sometime. But _where_!

Would the man try to follow them? It was hard to keep up with a motorcycle, but there was something about the man that said he would find them eventually. Winry shivered at that thought, not even giving credit to the below-freezing temperatures biting her skin.

"Where are we going?" she asked Al when they stopped at a busy-for-that-time-of-night stop light.

Al rubbed his gloveless hands together and blew on them, waiting for the light to turn green. It was yellow on the other side. "You'll see," he said and leaned forward again. Winry held on tight and kept her head down. Very shortly after, Al took off, speeding through traffic almost madly. With as fast as they were going, it made the air seem much colder.

It was hard to breathe, and Winry had to hold her breath sometimes when the air was too cold to even take in. But eventually, she accustomed herself to a slow breathing pattern, allowing just the right amount of air into her lungs so it didn't hurt to take a breath. Focusing on her breathing entranced her so much that she lost track of her surroundings. What brought her back an indeterminate amount of time later was when Al went over a pothole quickly. She looked up and saw they were in a dingy part of Central. Not that Ed's neighborhood wasn't dingy enough, but still. This area was pushing the boundaries. Winry tried to avoid areas like these at all costs. God knew what was there, waiting.

Al pulled up in front a building with a shabby, worn-down exterior. The glass was intact, and there was a small light in one of them. Winry looked at the building for some type of way to establish what it was. Then her eyes trailed to a highly illuminated sign that read "Central Motel." _Edward_. His name whispered into her ears like the small breeze blowing in her hair. She made towards what she thought was the front, but Al grabbed her arm.

"This way," he said, inclining his head towards a covered corridor with a few lights dotting the walls. Winry shivered at the thought of being by herself, going down that line. But, she had Al with her. And he probably still had the gun.

Which reminded her. "Al, what happened back at the house? How did you get out?" she asked quietly, feeling suddenly claustrophobic. The hall was made up from doors on her right and thick trees on her left. Oh, the joy of being the person at the very end of the long corridor.

Al shook his head. "Wait a few minutes," he told her, his voice soft as well.

Winry nodded. He probably didn't want to have to tell the story twice in such a short period of time, since they were going to see Edward. She didn't blame Al. She didn't like telling stories over and over again. It was annoying. So she quieted herself for a while and began to count the numbers on the door. The numbers were even, and the two quiet figures were at door sixteen. If Winry remembered correctly, Ed was in room twenty-four, and that would be about four doors down. Anticipation rose up in her. She would get to see him again. It made her happy.

Then, her mood took a complete change of direction when they reached his door and Al rapped on it a few times. She felt suddenly angry with Edward for leaving them. It had been an incredibly selfish thing to do and it blew Winry away. So, she stepped in front of Al. As soon as the door opened and Ed appeared, she raised her hand and let it fly across his cheek. All three of them stood in quiet shock and astonishment until the tears welling in Winry's eyes spilled over her cheeks. Then she threw herself at him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

"You're such a jerk, you know that?" she whispered hoarsely.

Al shut the door behind them all, locked it, and leaned against it silently.

Winry felt as Ed put his arms around her in a small hug. Then he pushed her back at arm's length. "That hurt," he murmured, meaning his face.

"You deserved it!" she told him incredulously. "How could you leave us?"

Edward shushed her and looked at Al. "Why are you guys here?" he asked, his voice still heavy with sleep.

Winry answered first. "Someone broke into the house!" she exclaimed angrily.

Al took his turn to shush her and took a step forward. "That guy Mustang told you to keep an eye out for, he showed up," he mumbled.

Ed swore and let go of Winry. "I was hoping he would lay off. I guess not." He dragged his hands through his hair. "Are you both all right?" he asked.

Winry and Al nodded. "Yeah. Just cold," Al said. "Since you have the car, we had to drive your motorcycle."

Ed snorted. "That thing hasn't been on the road in forever. I'm surprised the gas was still okay," he murmured. Then he looked at Al. "How did you guys get out? Was he unaware?"

Al sat down at the rickety looking table near the window. "He saw us before we got out, but I made Winry go outside. He'd asked for you, specifically, so I knew it was trouble. Once she was outside, I told him you were gone and probably wouldn't be back anytime soon. After that, he just left. But I didn't want to take a chance, so I went out through the garage." He nodded. "Then we were here."

Edward nodded as well, processing the information. "So, it looks like we're pressed for places to stay," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Winry stood off to the corner as the two brothers began discussing the important matters coming up. She wasn't really listening; she was too deep in her thoughts of mixed emotions. Seeing Edward again hadn't gone exactly as she'd thought. She had imagined him to be stoic and completely impassive to everything around him, especially to Winry. Instead, he was animatedly tossing out suggestions of what to do, looking as active as a person who had been roused from sleep in the middle of the night could. He would laugh occasionally as both brothers felt the wave of still being tired wash over them and they came up with slightly eccentric ideas. Winry even smirked a little, but sleepiness had claimed her quite a bit ago.

The adrenaline had worn off, leaving a drained feeling in its trail. So she closed her eyes and let Ed's and Al's voices become background noise to her slowly leaving consciousness. She felt suddenly more alert, despite her sleepiness. Her senses were heightened to the point where she could hear the heater buzzing across the room; the faucet in the bathroom was dripping; snow was tapping on the window behind her; and there was a draft just above her. A door closing suddenly brought her out of her trance-like state.

Winry gasped a little and opened her eyes. Once she focused her vision, she saw Edward sitting on the edge of the bed still, looking a little sullen and tired now. She went over to him and sat down beside him. They were both silent, and Winry took note that Al had left the room, either into the the bathroom or outside. Regardless, she and Ed were alone. It made her nervous.

"Edward," she murmured, still looking at the floor. He was silent. It wasn't very encouraging, especially when she wasn't at all sure how to go about talking to him now. She'd slapped him and hugged him, spoken a little, but hadn't really _said_ anything of importance yet. What to say, what to say? Nothing of sheer substance came to her for a few moments, until, "I missed you," came out of her mouth.

Ed seemed to come out of a trance as he flinched a little. He put his hands behind him and leaned back, sighing a little. Winry frowned. Though she hadn't had much of a plan to begin with, this definitely wasn't part of it. She had expected Edward to respond, not ignore her. "Edward?"

Then he looked at her. "Sorry. I'm really tired," he told her, offering a sleepy smile. "Haven't slept much lately."

Winry nodded. "Oh, okay." Well, what could she say to that? She couldn't fuss at him for not being alert, but she could fuss about him not sleeping enough. She sighed. How she wanted to touch him, even just his hand to let him know she was really there. But she was so afraid to. She didn't know how he would respond to anything, since he was just so hard to read all the time. But, she knew never something until she tried. So, Winry took a chance and put her hand over his lightly.

Ed smiled at the ground. Then he looked at her, a sad expression in his eyes. "I'm sorry I left you guys," he murmured. "I didn't think that I'd be gone this long, or that anything would happen."

She smiled. "It's okay, Ed," she said, shifting so she was facing him. She was about to add something when he frowned. "What?"

"Your hands are like ice," he told her, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand.

Winry shrugged. "No gloves," she admitted. She could have made a snide remark, linking her cold hands to his absence, but she decided that it was no time for her to try to crack jokes. When he stood up, she decided to ask a question. "What are our plans? I wasn't really listening earlier."

Ed laughed a little. "I know you weren't. You looked just as out of it as I feel," he said jokingly. Then he shook his head. "We'll talk about it tomorrow. We all just need to get some sleep for now."

With a little bit of a frown, Winry stood up and walked over to Edward. She joined hands with him again. She spared him a brief glance before leaning against him gently, just for the sake of bearing near him. Oh, she'd had missed him so much, but now that they were together, she was lost on what to do or say. But if all else failed, she thought, she could always do for silence. It was not always a bad thing.

"Where did Alphonse go?" she found herself asking a few moments later.

Ed shrugged. "He went to go check for an empty room for himself," he replied. "You're staying with me."

Winry nodded a little. "O-okay." Again, a stronger wave of nervousness washed over her. And once more, she reminded herself that it was just Edward. It wasn't really anything new for them to share a bed; nothing had gone on. And Winry didn't need to worry about Ed trying something, either. So, what was her problem?

"Hey, Edward?" she murmured, stifling a yawn.

"Hmm?" He looked at her dazedly.

She thought a moment, wondering about what she was going to say. "I'm glad to be with you again," she murmured.

Ed smiled at her. "I am, too," he said.

Winry smiled and felt a little color fill her cheeks. He _did_ care. Now all she had to do was convince him to open up to her. Then things might be a little easier. Or so she hoped.

A knock at the door set Edward on another level again. He slowly walked over to the door and peered through the hole. Winry saw him visibly relax back to his sleepy state and assumed it was only Al. Her assumption was proved correct when Al appeared in the door to tell Ed his room number. Then Ed and Winry were left alone again. This time, Ed flicked the lock on the door and yawned. Winry smiled.

"Are you going to sleep now?" she asked him.

He looked at her, only halfway awake. "Yeah. You should, too," he told her, walking over to the bed.

She nodded and looked around. The room was shabby, but it was warm. Also, the entire hotel was deserted looking, so they were probably safe. She was still a little on edge from the whole break-in. But when she climbed into the bed, Edward wrapped an arm around her waist slightly. Winry felt safe. Ed was there; he'd keep her out of harm. That was his job, right?

* * *

**Much luff! Until next time! **

Peace...Lurve...Reviews? Check the LJ for some funny notes.


	21. Scars

**Disclaimer: I don't own Full Metal Alchemist. I don't own the song Scars by Papa Roach. **

Author's Note: So sorry this was late. -innocent look- It was Christmas! So, here is a belated Christmas present for you all. And, I am thinking that I'm going to extend my update deadlines...just because a week is becoming to feel like too short a time, especially on a break, while my plot bunnies are tired. So, I'm thinking about every ten days? I updated today, Wednesday, so not this Sunday, but the Sunday after that (the 8th, I believe) I can update. Yeah, sorry if that bugs y'all, but 7 days is getting rough. o.o Anyhoo, hope you guys like this chapter, it's angsty. Angst!

* * *

**Chapter 21: Scars**

The next morning, Edward woke to being quite warm, and to an offending ringing—again. For the past forty-eight hours, he'd woken up to a ringing phone. The first one had been Roy, alerting him of Scar's killing of two more officers, just down the road from his house. The next three had been the watch put on Al and Winry. The fifth, at the moment, was probably Mustang. If Ed didn't have the hunch it was someone from the station, he probably would have unplugged the phone. But, he actually reached over and lifted it off the hook. He didn't have time to say hello to whomever was there before they started talking.

"How are they?" a concerned, but still perky voice asked.

Ed sighed. "They're fine, Hughes," he murmured. "What do you know?" Yes, they were going to talk business at a semi-early hour of the morning.

"Well," Hughes drew out, "not much. Havoc and Fury saw him go in and called Al's cell phone. About twenty minutes later, Winry ran out. Two minutes after that, Al came out on the motorcycle and drove off with Winry. We didn't see Scar come out, so he must have gone out back."

Edward nodded to himself. "All right. Al already told me how he avoided Scar and escaped." Then he yawned. "Let me call you back later, okay Hughes?"

There was a faint response before Ed hung up. Then he turned his face back to the bed, only for his nose to come in contact with Winry's hair. He smiled to himself a bit when he actually registered she was there. He had been reluctant to really think it, because he might have been dreaming it all. But now, he had a face-full of Winry's hair to have a proof to his subconscious she really was there.

He turned on his side and looked up at the ceiling, suddenly awake. Darn Hughes and his phone call. Now Edward couldn't go back to sleep. His mind was filled thoughts about Scar, and Al, and Winry, and what to do with his life now that it had been handed to him finally. He honestly didn't know how to handle it all, at the moment. All he could do was hope he'd figure it out soon enough. He didn't know what to do concerning Scar, because he'd never been face-to-face with the man and had the intent to be killed pressing on him. Ed didn't know what to do about Al's sudden strange behavior now that he'd noticed it. And least of all, Ed didn't know what to do with Winry.

It was no use denying it anymore; Edward loved her. But he wasn't sure if he could tell her. He didn't know what would happen. He didn't know if Winry would tell him she was glad, she loved him too, and always wanted to be with him or look at him like he'd contracted the plague. Yes, he was still horribly afraid of her dropping him the second he confessed feelings. She said she loved him, so why she would do that, he didn't know. Edward was just gifted like that, to be dropped the second he showed emotion. That was why he opted to keep his heart, thoughts, and feelings to himself.

Disturbed by his thoughts, Edward stumbled out of bed. When he looked at the clock, it was around seven. A decent hour to wake up—if you'd actually gotten much sleep the previous night! He looked at a peacefully sleeping Winry and walked around the bed to her. Slowly, Ed knelt down in front of her and smirked to himself. "Hey, Winry." He took one of her hands and rubbed his thumb over it.

She stirred a little and barely opened an eye to peek at him. "Mm?"

"I'm going to go get breakfast. Don't open the door for anyone, okay?" He shook her a little to receive a response. Winry nodded vaguely at him. Ed grinned. "I'll be back soon," he murmured. Then he slowly leaned forward and brushed a hesitant kiss on her forehead.

Maybe if he admitted to himself, first, that he was afraid, things wouldn't be so bad. Just maybe.

* * *

Two hours later, Edward walked back into his motel room, Al in tow. Both men were carrying bags in their arms. Ed waited until his brother was in the room before kicking the door shut and walking over to the small table, where he immediately dropped his bags. He swore foully and shook out his left arm. "Al, did you have to buy that?" he asked, frustrated at the hot food that had been burning his arm.

Al rolled his eyes. "Yes, I did. It's breakfast. Now be quiet before you wake up Winry," he warned.

Edward grumbled and reached in his bag for breakfast. He pulled out a bagel with an egg and bacon rolled in the middle from one bag, and a small juice bottle from another. Al had already grabbed his miniature container of steaming oatmeal and milk carton. Edward glared at the cardboard container with opaque liquid secreted from a cow. Gross.

"It isn't going to kill you, Brother," Al said, taking a sip.

Ed made a noncommittal noise and took a gulp from his juice.

"Why don't you like milk, anyway?" the younger man asked.

Ed choked. He hadn't really been asked before why he didn't like milk. He _had_, but his brother had never bothered to ask. It had always been a known and accepted fact that Edward didn't drink milk. So, he didn't really have a prepared answer to give his brother. He began to formulate one, a good one, but in the process, Winry stirred. Both men looked at her immediately to judge if she was going to stay asleep for a little longer or wake up then. They were silent, but for Edward chewing his breakfast, waiting for a sign on whether they could continue their talking or give Winry privacy for her morning waking rituals.

After a few moments, Edward turned his attention away from Winry and looked back at Al. "It came from an animal's underside," he said smoothly.

Al looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "What?" he asked incredulously.

Ed cleared his throat. "Milk. It came from a cow's udder, which is its underside. I just find that mildly disgusting," he reiterated.

Al was about to reply, but a sleepy voice interjected before he could, saying, "If you drank milk, you wouldn't be so short."

It took quite a bit to hold Edward back from shouting. Instead, he looked over at Winry, mock pleasantly, and forced a smile. "You're just jealous I have advantages from being short," he said cynically. Actually, he pitied anyone who was jealous of his height. He was really short, for a guy. _Winry_ was taller than he was, if just by an inch. But still, that was a lot if you were about five-foot, four-inches. There were, in truth, a couple advantages to being short, but Edward didn't use them, so why bother? He didn't _want_ to be short. He thought it was a curse.

But Winry made a slight noise of acknowledgment before looking over at him. "What time is it?" she asked and sat up. She was wearing one of his shirts again. He hadn't noticed it earlier, when they had shown up, because he'd been too tired and confused to register what she was wearing. Now, it made him smirk a little.

"About nine," Edward told her. Then he tossed her a bag of food. Winry looked at him like he'd was missing a few marbles. "Breakfast," he said, still smirking at her. He could tell she was getting frustrated with not being able to figure out what was amusing him. Her temper was pretty short in the mornings.

About half an hour and some randomly inserted conversation later, Edward crumpled up his bag and tossed it to the corner of the room the trashcan was located. It bounced off the rim and landed on the floor, where most of the trash was, anyway. He sighed. "I'm not known for my hits, but my misses," he said to himself.

* * *

A few hours later, with only Edward and Winry in the room, snow began to fall fiercely. Al had left a few minutes before to retrieve something from his room, but the wind was howling loudly, and Edward figured that was keeping Al in his room. No one wanted to be caught out in that mess, especially not Al. That left Ed and Winry alone in an awkward silence.

He was still feeling a little wary about talking to Winry. The last time they had really talked had been on the phone three nights before. Even then, he'd been a little out of it, as he had been asleep before she called. He didn't remember much of the conversation, but he knew she'd said she loved him. That had kept him up for a few minutes before exhaustion from being awake for three solid days took him over.

Winry was sitting on the bed, staring out the window at the snow, lost in thought. Edward was in thought, but not lost. He had a feeling that something was going to happen soon, something he had been putting off for quite a while, and he wasn't at all pleased with what his mind was telling him. But he couldn't help it, could he, if Someone else was in charge of his life?

Suddenly, and without much warning, the dim light went out. Edward swore and looked at the bathroom door. It was out, too. The probability of two bulbs blowing at the same time wasn't likely, so he opted to think that the snow had put the power out. Lovely, he thought grimly. He looked in Winry's direction, but found he couldn't see a thing in the sudden dark. The clouds were so thick outside, they blocked the sun. So much for a little illumination.

"Edward?" Winry's voice was a little hesitant sounding. He didn't know if it was because she was nervous about the power outage or something else.

But he looked over in her general direction again, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark in the room.

"What happened?" she asked softly.

Edward almost choked trying not to laugh. "The power went out?" he suggested in an obvious tone. If she really had to ask, then he would have to start worrying about her.

He heard her scoff. "That's not what I mean, smart aleck," she said critically. Then she sobered. "I meant what happened with your mother."

"None of your business," he replied quickly and instinctively.

Winry stood up. "Yes, it is. Look, I don't know how you feel about our relationship, but I love you, Edward. And you may not want help, but I want to help you get over this. It's still pretty rough for you. _Anyone_ could see that."

He scowled at the floor, not wanting to hear her. But the more he tried to ignore her, the more he heard her. Why did it have to work that way? "It isn't any of your business, Winry," he muttered.

"You know _why_ anyone could see?" Her voice became a little louder as her frustration built. Edward didn't know why she even asked; she would tell him anyway. "Because you ran away," she said evenly.

Ed twitched and it took a lot to keep from yelling. No one liked to be told they were running away from something...least of all, men. Especially by women. And he was feeling just in the least bit annoyed now, but he was pretending not to listen to her, like she wasn't there.

"You've been running away this entire time!" Winry carried on. "If you haven't accepted it yet, that your mother passed away, then you probably never will! You've been running away from it for so long. Why? The more you run, the more you fear it, the more it bothers you!" She took a deep breath. "You need to accept it."

Edward sat, literally shaking, at the little table. His left hand was clenched into a fist so tight, he was sure to feel blood coming from beneath his nails at any time. His entire arm was quaking from the pressure in his hand and the restrained anger in his veins. "Shut up," he said quietly.

"Stop running away, Edward! Talk to me about it; talk to someone," Winry pleaded. "Some people say differently, but talking about something really does help!"

"Winry, just be quiet," he said, a little more forcefully. If she didn't stop...

"Why can't you just tell me, Edward? It can't be that bad!"

Finally, it became too much. Edward jumped up, knocking the seat over. He saw Winry move back, half-past startled to death. "Shut up!" he yelled. "You don't know what you're talking about, Winry!" He looked at her seriously, his anger apparent on her face. He saw the color drain from her cheeks and her trembles begin. "You don't know the half of what happened to my mother."

They were silent for a while, both shaking for different reasons but over the same thing. Both were afraid to speak at first, not sure of how the other would react, unable to predict what would happen. But finally, Winry took a leap of faith, not sure if anyone would be there to catch her. "My parents died when I was fourteen," she said suddenly. Edward almost swore at the bad timing, but she continued. "They were both doctors...and they had been called out for a war in the east. They went to the front line, and treated both our soldiers and the enemy's." Her voice began to quiver. "But, our military wasn't happy with that and demanded that they stop treating the enemy." Winry took a deep breath. "They didn't. And they were killed for helping other people, people who might have killed them without a second thought. But that didn't stop my parents. They died for a good reason."

Silence. Edward didn't have anything to say to her. So he picked the chair up wordlessly and sat down, pulling the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He hadn't smoked lately, since it was snowing. But he wasn't pulling them out for pain relief...more for _stress relief_. They were there if he needed them, but he wanted to resist as long as he could.

"Don't you have anything to say?" Winry asked, her voice catching and sounding pained. "Anything at all?"

Edward shook his head. "Go away," he said simply. He didn't want to say _anything_ at all about his mother. There was no point. So her parents died when she was fourteen. Poor her. He personally felt like losing your parents at a young age was better than an older age. You grow attached to them, and you begin to realize that they were right about all those things they told you not to do when you were younger. At fourteen...you were still in that rebellious age where you didn't really care about much. It was still hard; he wasn't saying that either of them had it easier. It was just...how Edward had lost his mother...what he'd done to try to help...

A hard collision to the back of his head brought Edward out of his thoughts. He swore loudly and rubbed the offended spot on his head. "What the heck, Winry?" He turned around to look at Winry, tears streaming down her cheeks and white in the face from keeping in a frustrated yell.

"You're such a jerk, Edward! Whatever happened to _equivalent trade_!" she shouted at him. "I told you my story; tell me yours—"

He jumped out of the chair again, glaring at her. "Don't talk to me about equivalent trade, Winry Rockbell! I've gone through more equivalent exchange than you could imagine." He gave her a stern look, daring her to argue.

"I want to know your story, Edward," she said evenly. "I told you mine, about the sacrifices my parents—"

"Sacrifices! You want to tell _me_ about sacrifices!" Ed cut her off viciously. He looked at her as if she'd lost her mind. "Don't tell me about sacrifices, Winry, because I made a bigger sacrifice than your family ever could. And what did that get me!" Using some of his pent up anger, he ripped his shirt at his right shoulder to reveal his metal appendage. "Nothing! Absolutely nothing!" He looked at Winry and saw her shaking still. Ed knew he was shaking more than he had been earlier. His hand was very unsteady at his side.

"Ed, I—"

"Don't apologize," he snarled, turning to stare out at the snow. "I heard enough apologies when I was in the hospital to last me a lifetime." He took a deep breath and waited to hear the door click. Surely Winry wouldn't love him anymore after him yelling at her so fiercely. He could hardly stand the thought of being trapped in his own body after that. And when he hated even himself, it was impossible for anyone else to love him, much less like him. His words played over in his mind, all of the things he'd yelled at her, the numerous times he'd told her to leave him alone. All of his regret for not only this argument, but their past arguments and all of the times Edward had ever yelled something he hadn't meant came surging through him. It caught him so off-guard, he nearly stumbled at the window. He likely would have if Winry hadn't put her arms around him suddenly. She was holding on so tightly he couldn't push her arms away.

"Winry, just—"

Then he felt her hot tears on his back. Jeez, she was crying still. "Don't tell me to go away, Edward Elric!" she sobbed. "You spend all of your time telling people to go away that you miss out on a lot. You miss out on the joys being with someone can bring." She let go and moved in front of him so she could glare into his eyes. "Now you're going to..."

He knew why she trailed off. She was shocked. Surely she'd seen a man cry before. Why was Edward any different? "Just leave me alone, Winry," he murmured softly, staring out the window, feeling suddenly drained.

"Edward..." she said softly. She took his hand and laced her fingers with his. "Why don't you just tell me what happened? Just let go." There was no specification needed. They both knew what she meant.

"You don't—"

"Yes, I do," she interrupted firmly. "I do need to know, Edward."

He looked down at her and knew that there was a great amount of grief in his eyes. He could see his reflection in her blue orbs. "So you can decide if you still love me after you hear it?" Ed asked quietly.

What happened next, he didn't expect. One moment he was looking at Winry, pain-free. The next, he was looking over at the table with a stinging pain in his cheek. He lifted his hand to lightly touch his offended face.

"Don't you _ever _say you don't deserve someone's love, Edward, even if they know your story," Winry told him lowly. "You are more deserving of someone's love than anyone I know. Do you want to know why, Edward?"

He looked away from her, not speaking. Again, she would tell him anyway.

"You deserve love because you are the most impossible, callous, beautiful person I have ever met and anyone who says differently has something else coming," she said with feeling.

Edward sighed. "Three years ago," he began. She looked puzzled for a moment until he sat down next to the table, touching his shoulder. "Three years ago was when it happened. Five years ago, my mom was diagnosed with cancer. She'd had it for a long time, the doctors had said, and she had been lucky to have lived so long with it. Al had always suspected it had been us to keep her alive for so long." Absently, Ed fingered the pack of cigarettes on the table, but shoved them away. "Anyway, two years later, around May...she had been taken to the hospital because of some new symptom or something. I hadn't heard it all...I just knew that I needed to get to the hospital as soon as I could."

He paused. It was long enough for Winry to speak up. "Go on, Edward," she whispered, sitting on the old hotel mattress across from him.

"It was raining like the Flood. Later, I'd heard there had been at least a foot and a half of rain water flooding the city. But I was driving to the hospital through downtown and came down off of the bridge slightly disoriented. I ran a red light and a storage truck sideswiped me." Ed felt his eyes go unfocused as he stared up at the ceiling. He could see it all again perfectly. "My left leg was broken and cut up. A lot of blood...the EMTs had been surprised that I had survived so long like that." A little bit of a shiver went through him.

Winry touched his right knee gently. "Where was Al?" she asked.

"In the passenger's side of the car, just about dead," Ed answered easily. Winry's sudden terror was abrupt enough to surprise him. "We were transported to the hospital and admitted to the emergency room. Al died on the table a few times. I wouldn't let them do anything before they let me see my mother, who was also in the emergency wing." He took a deep breath. "Screw this." Ed reached for the pack of cigarettes and pulled one out. "You remember I'm an alchemist, right?" Winry nodded. He lit the stick of nicotine and took a slow drag. "My mother's leg was being eaten away by her disease, so I traded legs with her via alchemy. They might have been able to fix her that way.

"After they amputated what had been my mother's leg, they performed an emergency procedure to cauterize the wound as quickly as possible." He paused again, mulling over a fact. "Al's arm had been sliced by some shrapnel, too badly for stitches. They had to stabilize him before searing his arm, though.

"Once I had a stub, I demanded to be taken to my brother. Good old Mustang," Ed chuckled grimly, "was kind enough to take me to see the most horrifying sight of my life." A twisted grin came over his features.

Ed wasn't sure, but he thought he heard Winry murmur, "Bless the man."

"What was that?" he asked.

"What did you do after seeing Al?" she returned, evading his question.

He nodded briefly, continuing his tale. "Vomited a few times, mainly from the stench of burnt flesh." Ed shuddered. "But then I did the same thing for him I did for my mom: I alchemized my arm for his. Then they were able to stabilize Al and put him in the intensive care unit," he murmured.

"What about you?" Winry pressed, leaning forward.

Edward took a deep breath and burned out the cigarette on the palm of his flesh hand. "They amputated my new arm and cauterized the wound. I eventually passed out from the pain. The only reason I stayed semi-conscious before was that I was determined to help my brother." He paused again, seriously contemplating stopping his story now before things became more detailed. But when he looked at Winry, her look of complete interest and the visible want to know more kept him going. If she felt any pity, she hid it well. If anything, he saw raw admiration in her eyes.

"When I woke up a few days later, it was to a room full of balloons and flowers. The people that would visit me would tell me there were so sorry for my loss and I had no clue what they were talking about! Whenever I asked someone what I had lost, they would all look at me like I was crazy and then immediately become a closed book. It drove me insane for a little while, until a nurse came in to give me my medicine." A bit of a scowl came over his features. "I demanded to know what I had lost and tried to reach for her stupid, frilly smock, only to find that I didn't have a right arm anymore." He shuddered again. Winry crawled into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck.

He kissed her cheek roughly and continued. Not because she wanted to hear it, but because he needed to say it. "It all came back to me in a rush...the car accident, the pain, seeing both my mother and my brother dying on an operating table, the alchemy...the smell of charred flesh...all of it." Ed grasped his shoulder to find Winry's small, delicate hand already there. He looked at her to see tears running down her cheeks. "Even though I remembered giving up my limbs to save their lives, I couldn't believe it had all happened. It had seemed like a bad dream I couldn't wake up from.

"When the morphine toned down some, I could feel the phantom pain in my arm and leg. It was, to say the least, the worst thing I had _ever_ felt, no comparisons. Then Al came in with his—_my_—arm in a sling and looking a little rough for wear. There hadn't been a need for words then...I looked at him, he looked at me and I knew. I knew that our mother hadn't lived. The sacrifice I'd made for my mom, for nothing. Performing forbidden human alchemy to end up an orphan." A tear escaped down his cheeks but became trapped in his slightly bearded face. He intended to stop there. The rest of the story wasn't interesting...just more pain and suffering. That's what his life was about.

But Winry seemed determined still. "What about your metal prosthetics?" she asked softly, touching his arm. "Where did you get them?"

"A mechanic I know...she's really good with armor and always likes a challenge," he said, smirking to himself.

"Sounds like my grandmother," she mumbled, resting her head on his shoulder.

"She was your grandmother," Ed admitted. "You were in Central already when this happened, I believe."

Before Winry could comment, the door burst open and Al walked in, shivering and covered with snow. There were trails of moisture, looking slightly icy, over his cheeks. He stumbled over to Ed and Winry and threw himself on the floor beside his brother's chair, sobbing. "I had no idea, Edward," Al whispered hoarsely. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Ed reached out hesitantly with his right hand and ruffled Al's hair. "You never needed to know," Ed murmured.

Al looked up at him. "Yes, I did! For the longest time, until you got your prosthetics, I had wondered why something just didn't feel right. Now I know...now I know the sacrifice you made for me and Mother," he rasped. "That's something I can never repay you for, Edward."

The elder brother shook his head. "You already have, Alphonse. Now drop it." Ed wiped a bit of moisture from his eye and pushed Winry off of his lap. "I'm going out for a bit." He didn't question why he said it, and no one else questioned his reasons for being tired. It _had_ been a long couple of days. At least, no one questioned at that moment. Ed felt a small hand grasp his shoulder and turned him around. Another slap went across his face.

"Edward!" Winry exclaimed. "You idiot!"

He swore. "What did I do now!" Ed rubbed his cheek. That was twice she'd slapped him in less than fifteen minutes.

"You can't expect me to let you leave now! It's a blizzard out there!" Winry used a colorful word of her own. "You were gone for four days, and I felt like I was dying because you left! If you leave me now..." She trailed off, taking deep breaths.

Edward suddenly felt bad. That was true. He had left her, without thinking of how it would affect her. He'd left, selfishly, to deal with his own problems by himself. He had known she would have gladly helped him, but he'd been too proud to sit down and tell her about his mother. So, Edward went over to her and put his arms around her shoulders carefully, wary of the weight of his automail.

"I want to go home," she whispered.

Ed sighed a little and held her close. "I know..." he said softly. He wanted to go home, too, but he wasn't sure on how safe it was to go back to his house when Scar had just been there the night before. He had no idea when or _if_ the Ishbalan had been sighted.

He'd call Mustang. He would know. If Mustang didn't know, Hughes would. Hughes knew everything else that went on.

So, Edward continued to hold onto Winry until she seemed calm enough. Then he pushed her at arms' length and looked at her seriously. "I'll see what I can do, okay?" he murmured softly.

Winry nodded and took a deep breath to help control herself.

Ed looked at his brother and shrugged. The elder knew he was so horribly lost in love and so horribly afraid to show it. He wondered if his brother knew it, too. Probably. What was left to wonder was, did _Winry_ notice it?

* * *

**Just a note, I am going on a road trip to Louisiana (yes, I take road trips frequently), for God knows how long. So, yeah...but I should be back by the eighth, definitely. Okay! Well, Peace...lurve...reviews? Oh, we got about 20 reviews last chapter! Whoo:)**


	22. Collide

**Disclaimer: Don't own FMA. Don't own Collide, by Howie Day.**

Author's Note: Okay...testing out the 10 day space...I've had this chapter finished for a while instead of finishing it like, day of. Ooh. So, yeah, that's good. I hope you guys enjoy this one. I was picking out titles, and "Collide" came on my CD player, and it just kinda like fit into place. I told one person it was like a puzzle piece. Oh and you guys? I have a website now. It's for Role Playing. The link is in my profile as my homepage or whatever it is. So, if you like to role play or would like to learn check it out. I'm hoping it'll be a nice little community. :) All righty, well, enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter 22: Collide**

It was a few days later when the phone rang in Edward's motel room. Winry looked at it, surprised. It hadn't rung in about four days, and for it to ring now made Winry curious as to why. So she watched Edward go over to the phone, not even excusing himself from their conversation, and lift the phone to his ear with a curt greeting. Obviously, he knew he was calling him.

For the past four days, Winry had been in an almost constant state of shock. Edward had been very open whenever she would ask him something—about anything—and answer calmly, without and sighs of frustration. The day after their argument, she'd hesitantly asked him about an unclear fact. He'd thought a moment, but answered her smoothly and evenly. Winry had not been able to say much for the following few minutes.

Why had she been so surprised? It wasn't like Edward, really, to exactly answer a personal question without stating his displeasure for it first. In fact, it wasn't like Edward at all to answer a personal question.

But all of this was good. It was a strange thing for Edward to be open, even with her, but a good thing. It made Winry smile to know they were talking again. And not just small talk, either. Actual, in depth conversations about important matters, such as Christmas, Scar, the accident…. A couple times, he'd even asked her about her parents' deaths. The first time had left her at a loss for words for a few moments, and it'd had Edward apologizing, thinking it was a sore spot for her. He'd been so sincere apologizing, so…cute. Winry had taken a mental picture of it because she had a feeling that she wouldn't see it very often after the water between them had settled.

But Winry didn't know if she _wanted _the water to settle. She felt bad for thinking it, but it was true. She liked Edward how he was then; a little hesitant, and, well, sweeter. Since their argument, he'd honestly been sweeter, nicer to her. It seemed like he was trying harder to show that he cared for her. She knew he did. Whether he'd said so or not, Winry just knew he did. It was in his eyes when he looked at her. It was in his smile when he grinned at her. It was even in his voice, sometimes, when he spoke to her.

Winry blushed like a teenage girl and pulled the bed sheets up to cover her red face. She and Edward often stayed up late, talking about anything. They had done so the past three nights and they had begun their fourth a while ago, until the phone rang. It very inwardly and secretly pleased Winry that they could talk now. She almost wondered why they had never done so in the past, but then the mental images she'd conjured of the things Edward had told her came to mind. Winry couldn't imagine how hard it must have been for Edward to deal with such loss, all in one night, especially at his age.

People figured eighteen was the age where this divine sight of knowing who you are and what you want to do with your life came to you like Buddha's enlightenment. Quite to the contrary, reaching the age of eighteen was actually where you began your search for who you were, and finally thought about what you wanted to do with your life. Eighteen was a very confusing and scary age to be. You sometimes questioned yourself. There was a constant inner battle of trying to decide what you were, young or old. You were too old to be counted in with the younger teens, but too young to be counted in with the younger adults. It was very frustrating to have to go through the beginning stages of self-discovery and trying to find your place without seeming too awkward.

And for Edward to have the accident to happen then, to lose his mother after what he'd done to try to save her, it must have been hard. Winry knew she wouldn't have been able to last as long as he had, after hearing the things he'd shared with her.

Edward had told her that he'd always felt guilty for his mother's death, ever since that night. Wrecking his car had started it, slowing him down from reaching her. Then, the doctors had told him he was too late to save his mother, but he'd performed the transmutation on her anyway.

From there, after hearing of his mother's absolute death, the guilt had planted itself and grown for three years, making every anniversary of her death harder for him.

Winry was just glad she'd been there to catch him the other night, because he had certainly fallen hard and fast. She didn't want to think of what could have transpired had she not been there for him….

Moving on.

Though Ed and Winry had been staying up talking most of the night, during the day was Ed and Al's time to talk. They had a lot to sort out with Edward keeping the news of that night from his brother. Winry had usually sat in the corner, allowing them some semblance of privacy in the dinky motel room. She'd usually write down her thoughts to process them later, not paying attention to the brothers. But occasionally, she would listen to them. It was usually one of them saying a monologue about their feelings about the accident, or something concerning it. A lot of the things they talked about, concerning the accident were personal, so Winry almost felt bad for overhearing. But at the end of the day, she had to smile for two reasons: they were finally being honest with each other, and their emotions put into words were really good for lyrics.

Yes, she had copied a not-so-infrequent phrase from either brother to use in a song or two. She would make it a tribute to them, for being able to stick together through their hardships. Not just because all they had was each other, but because the bond they shared with each other, as brothers, was so strong, so tangible to her. It touched Winry's heart to look at them and see it. She knew first hand that their arguments were not a pleasant sight to behold, but the two always made up afterwards. She liked to believe it made their brotherly love stronger, in a sense, because they had been able to overcome whatever hardship had been there. And being able to do that was what made them both beautiful people.

That made Winry wonder absently of her relationship with Edward. She still loved him very much, in great contrast to Edward's proclaiming that she couldn't possibly love him, the other day. Actually, Winry thought she loved him more, now that he'd told her about the accident. It made her smile, even though wondering of what Edward felt for her was a slightly depressing thought. Yes, he cared for her. But how deep did that caring go? Did he care enough for her to stick around for a while, then leave? Or did his "caring" reach further into an entirely different category? She didn't know what to think, nor what to expect from Edward.

Sure, he probably didn't tell everyone he met on the street about the accident, but people told important things to other people that they cared about. Maybe he had only told her because she had been a listening ear when he needed to talk, and that was that? But then why would he be telling her all of the other details of his life if he didn't intend to stick beside her for some indeterminate amount of time? The listening ear was a good philosophy, but just for the one occasion. It didn't explain why he would want to tell her every other event in his life that was important to him. His openness would have been proof enough for perhaps the biggest skeptic about love, she thought. But, all of that was just wishful thinking at the moment.

Winry didn't want to blatantly ask him if he had feeling for her and to what extent they were, but it made her very curious indeed about it all. Maybe it would come up in their conversations, somewhere, that night? Winry hoped so. Until then, she was still guessing.

Edward's voice suddenly broke into Winry's thoughts. He'd been talking for the past few minutes, but something he'd said had caught her attention.

"Tomorrow? You're sure?" He wore an excited look on his face. "Thanks, Captain." He promptly hung up and smiled at Winry.

Winry looked at him, not knowing whether to be excited as well or something else. He'd said "captain," so she figured it had been Mustang. "What?" she asked since he wouldn't speak first.

"We get to go home," he said, still grinning.

It took a moment for the words to register in Winry's head. When they did, a smile broke out on her face. "Really? Tomorrow, right?"

Edward hopped back onto the bed and lay down on his side next to her. "Yeah. They spotted Scar on the outskirts of town earlier today. As long as it doesn't leak out I'm back home, we'll be all right."

Winry smiled still, warmly. "That's great," she said. She was excited, really, but a little hesitant about going back for a few reasons. Reasons such as Scar manipulating the police by deliberately being spotted so Edward would go home. And, she was afraid that Edward's disposition would change back to how he had been before. It wasn't her fault she was in love!

Ed nodded enthusiastically, oblivious to her thoughts. "I'll finally be able to sleep in my own bed again," he said, turning on his back and resting his head on his hands. "You can cook for us instead of eating fast food or take-out all the time." With a chuckle, he patted his stomach a few times. "I think I've gained a few pounds."

Winry laughed at him a little. "No, you haven't," she told him. He hadn't been eating very much of anything, period. It worried Winry a little, but she wouldn't say anything since he would just frown at her and tell her she was insane.

"Yes, I have," he argued playfully. "Right here is fat; feel." Before Winry could protest, he'd grabbed her hand and put it over his stomach.

Winry laughed and tried to pull her hand away, feeling embarrassed. "Edward, if you've gained a few pounds, I've gotten fat, because I've eaten more than you," she told him, finally pulling her hand out of his.

He shook his head. "You move around too much to gain any weight," he said, leaning on his side again.

With a little smile, Winry lay down on her back. She didn't realize until almost too late that the sudden mood they were in was more or less awkwardly romantic. Her eyes flicked shyly up to Edward's, briefly, before she looked at her hands. When she felt Edward touch her face, her gaze went back to his. "Edward," she whispered, her voice betraying what she hoped was an assured face.

He slowly leaned close to her face. His eyes flicked between hers until Winry closed her eyes. A moment later, his mouth closed over hers lightly for a few moments. When he pulled away, Winry opened her eyes to see an unreadable expression on Edward's face. He looked somewhere between confused and…happy. Then he covered her mouth again, less gently this time, but not enough for her to pull away. Winry's eyes immediately shut again as a sweet euphoria overtook her mind and a light fog covered her thoughts. She let Edward kiss her that way for a while. A slightly surprised feeling came over her when she felt the tip of his tongue trace the line of her lips. It startled her a little.

Winry took a deep breath through her nose and caught Edward's scent. She opened her mouth beneath his with a soft sigh into him. It almost felt like a natural thing. A moment later, she felt his tongue touch hers briefly. It felt like a touch of heaven, however short it had been. Wanting more, Winry sought him out slowly, enjoying the kiss. Unconsciously, her hand went to tangle in his damp, unbraided hair gently.

When Edward drew away a few moments later, both were taking deep but soft breaths like air was going out of style. Slowly, Winry opened her eyes to look into Edward's golden orbs. He was gazing down at her intensely, so she returned the look on a lesser level.

"I love you," she whispered, dragging her fingers through his hair gently. "If you think that a few unkind words will change my mind, you're wrong." Winry lifted her head and rubbed her lips against his softly in a prolonged kiss.

Edward seemed to take that in for a little while. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, "that I was so mean. I shouldn't have said a few of those things." He brushed his thumb against her cheek lightly.

Winry nodded. "You shouldn't have," she agreed, "but you won't again, will you?

Edward shook his head. "Not unless there's a really good reason to shout at you." He laughed. Even when Winry sissy hit him, playfully, he laughed.

"You're a jerk sometimes," she joked, sitting up. "But you're _my _jerk." Edward smirked at her and lay down on his back. Winry frowned. "For a guy who wears long hair, you sure don't treat it well." She gently fingered some of his hair.

Ed frowned, too. "What'd I do wrong?" he asked, consciously touching his hair as well.

"Sit up," she ordered, gesturing for him to do so. When he looked at her strangely, Winry put her hands on his shoulders and tried to pull him up. When he didn't budge—thanks to the weight of his automail—Winry sighed. "Please sit up?" she tried, smiling sweetly.

He grinned a little, but sat up with a groan. Then, he gave her a brief kiss when he was upright. "What?" he drew out, slightly whiny sounding.

Winry jumped off the bed and started towards Ed's bag. "Stay there," she said, beginning to dig through his items.

"Arf," he mumbled, frowning again.

When Winry found a hair brush and hair tie, she scrambled back to the bed and sat behind Edward. Quickly, she patted his head. "Good boy."

She knew he was about to retort, but Winry pulled the brush through his hair before he could. Any words he might have said seemed to catch in his throat. Winry laughed at him. "You are so easily tamed," she said near his ear.

Edward slouched and Winry could practically see the dark cloud of gloom above his head. "Am not," he grumbled.

"Wanna bet, shorty?" She quickly dragged the brush through his hair. No comment came about the "shorty" remark. Winry laughed, triumphant. "Told you."

Edward made a noncommittal noise at her. "So, you're complaining," he began a little while later, "about how I treat my hair. Why?"

Winry blushed, glad he couldn't see her. She hoped he couldn't feel the heat from her blush. She couldn't exactly tell him that she loved his hair almost as much as she loved him, could she? "Because," she mumbled, stalling, "if you go to sleep with wet hair, it looks horrible in the morning." That was a good enough reason, wasn't it?

Ed nodded slowly. "Sure," he replied skeptically. "I've showered every night for the past four nights and you haven't said anything until tonight. It dries before I go to sleep, we talk so much."

The color in Winry's cheeks refused to subside. What he said was true. And her excuse of just wanting to braid it for him wouldn't work out well at all. So, she finally came up with a retort. "Shut up, Edward." Not the most convincing response, in fact it usually reversed whatever point you were trying to get across, but it worked. For a while. When she was almost finished braiding his hair, Edward spoke up.

"Winry?" There was a bit more than a tinge of curiosity in his voice. About what, though, was he curious?

"Yeah, Ed?" For him to actually say her name, as if to get her attention, sort of surprised her. It was only them in the room and it wasn't like either of them talked to themselves loudly or often.

He seemed to be hesitant about asking. Winry could tell he wanted to look at her, so she quickly finished his braid. It was another moment after that before he turned to look at her. When he did, Winry saw his uneasiness and a little bit of doubt in his eyes. "What is it, Edward?" Winry took his hand and was only mildly surprised he let her. He really had changed some, hadn't he?

Edward's gaze fell to their joined hands and a smile touched his face. He lifted his eyes back to hers and held the smile. Slowly, he brought their joined hands to his lips and pressed a light kiss on Winry's fingers. It bothered her to hear him say, "Never mind," but she nodded anyway, accepting that he wasn't ready to ask or tell her what had been on his mind.

So, she smiled warmly at him, another blush touching her cheeks once more. She heard Edward laugh at her, so pulled her hand away and tried to sissy hit him again. Ed caught her hand again, though.

"You're cute," he said, still chuckling, "when you blush."

The comment from him only made Winry's cheeks deepen in color and she was helpless to fight it. Words deserted her when she felt she could have used them most.

"Hey." Edward caught her chin between his index finger and thumb, suddenly close to her face. "You're beautiful no mater what, though," he whispered before kissing her again with a gentleness that betrayed the strength Winry knew he possessed.

Powerless to fight it, she melted against him as he hooked his arm around her waist. Gone was the curiosity about what Edward had wanted to ask her. Gone was the frustration of living in a dinky motel for a week. Left was the thought of why Winry even had to wonder if he loved her or not. From the way Edward was kissing her, it certainly seemed like he did. The only thing bothering Winry now was the sudden thought that popped into her head, unbidden.

Why couldn't he tell her?

* * *

It was well after midnight when Winry's eyes opened slowly. It wasn't late enough in the morning for the sun to be showing yet, but Winry knew it would be soon. She spent a few minutes trying to figure out why she'd woken up. There was no noise in the room, besides that annoying drip coming from the bathroom faucet. 

Winry and Edward had stayed up until maybe one AM, talking about things softly to each other. They had touched the surface of their relationship, but hadn't gotten into Ed's feelings, sadly enough to Winry. But such was life that she would have to wait to really find out. She had ideas, but that was pretty much it. It almost made her sad. It probably would have, had she not been halfway asleep at what felt like four in the morning.

With the intent to stop the leaky faucet, Winry tossed the covers off of her and slid out of Edward's sleepy-limp arms. For a sleeping person, he sure was cold. But Winry barely registered that as she stumbled out of bed and across the room to the bathroom. She went in and tightened the handle on the sink. The drip stopped. However, in the process of turning around, she stepped in a small puddle and cursed quietly. "Stupid faucet," she grumbled vaguely as she stepped back into the bedroom with a wet sock.

With that not being a good feeling, she stumbled over to Edward's bag and blindly reached for a new sock. It took her a little while, but she came up with one and quickly exchanged the wet sock with the dry one. Nonchalantly, she tossed the wet sock on the floor next to the bag.

By the time she decided to go back to bed, her eyes had adjusted to the dark so she didn't have to stumble anymore. "Hey, Ed," she said sleepily as she reached the bedside. Winry suddenly had a bad feeling.

When he didn't respond—he wasn't as heavy a sleeper as most people thought; he was just good at ignoring things—Winry's discomfort grew. So, she reached down to turn the lamp on. The moment she did, though, a scream worked its way up out of her throat, but it didn't quite make it out loudly. It came out as a hoarse squeaking. Terror gripped her so tightly, she could almost feel it around her body.

On the other side of the bed was a blue blob of water-like substance. Winry didn't know what was worse, seeing what she recognized as Ed's mother's face on the blue thing or that it had part of its liquid mass covering Ed's face, apparently trying to drown him. Winry just knew that nothing that was happening was good, and she couldn't do a thing about it.

That was what scared her the most: the feeling of helplessness.

Winry began to fall backwards until warm arms went around her in a secure embrace. She continued screaming, even after she realized she'd been in a nightmare. Hot tears stained her cheeks in spite of the soothing noises being made in her ear.

After a few more moments, Winry's screams came out hoarsely, like choked cries, as it had been in her dream. The arms around her—one warm flesh, the other cool metal—didn't let go, only held her tighter, if anything. When she finally had to resort to only silent tears and violent shakes, Winry at last heard Edward's voice in her ear.

"It's okay," he whispered. "Shh, it's okay now." He was gently rocking her back and forth, still murmuring to her.

Winry couldn't speak. She could barely breathe through her fright. The night terror had seemed so real! The usual fuzziness around her dreams hadn't been there. She remembered clearly hearing the leaking faucet, feeling the cold metal of the handle beneath her hand as she tightened the faucet, stepping into the puddle; it had all felt so real.

Seeking comfort still, Winry turned her face into Edward's shoulder and sobbed quietly. She was still shaking, but perhaps not as much as she had been a few minutes before. She reached up and grasped Ed's arm tightly, like he was her last rope for support.

Winry cried for she didn't know how long before her tears and trembles settled to soft hiccups and light quivering. She tried to speak, but only stuttered unintelligibly before Edward shushed her.

"Be quiet," he murmured, pressing a kiss on the side of her face. "Don't speak yet. I'm here."

That was all Winry needed to hear. _I'm here_. She just needed to know that he was there for her. Slowly, she began to calm down to the point of being able to speak. It was a while, though, before she decided to even try. She merely stayed in Edward's arms as he gently rocked her, taking the comfort he was offering.

It occurred to Winry so she vaguely acknowledged that Edward was doing the same for her as she'd done for him in the middle of the night, before. When he'd woken up at night, almost in tears from the upsetting and disturbing content of his dreams, she'd been the one to hold him. It was strongly the other way around now. Life was funny like that, turning things around.

"Edward?" she whispered hoarsely after a few minutes. A headache was pulsing painfully in her temples and ears, making it hard for her to concentrate.

But he smoothed his hand down over her hair and seemed to take away the pain. His hand stopped to rest on her lower back. "Yes?" came his soft voice in her ear. It brought her comfort.

"I-I dreamed…I dreamed that...that something tried to kill you," Winry murmured. How could she explain such a strange, frightening dream to him, especially with him as the main, morbid point, and the face of the thing trying to kill him?

She felt him sigh. Then his arms went around her a little bit tighter. "Don't think about it now, Winry," he whispered, kissing her head. "We'll talk about it in the morning."

Winry let out a soft breath. "All right," she murmured. They shifted at the same time and both lay down. Winry's face was against Ed's shoulder, and his arms were around her still. Not knowing what to do exactly, Winry put her hand on his waist. They hadn't slept so closely before, facing each other. It was different...new.

Winry didn't realize that, when she put her hand on Edward's waist, he twitched. It didn't click for her to think that he was ticklish on his side. Instead, she yawned. "Edward?"

There was a pause. "Yeah, Winry."

"Thank you." She snuggled closer to his warmth as a shiver went through her.

Ed cleared his throat a little uncomfortably. "Good night, Winry."

Winry didn't respond. She was already asleep again.

* * *

The next morning, Winry woke up with a start. She was _freezing_, despite the blankets around her. It felt like how she'd woken up in the middle of the night when Ed had been gone. A feeling of panic washed over her. Where was Ed? A horrible thought occurred. What if she'd _dreamed_ the past week, and it was December eleventh again, and Al was about to burst into her room, saying Scar was there? Or worse, none of that would happen, and she'd spend Christmas with only Al? 

"Edward," Winry cried as she sat straight up in the bed. She was in the dinky motel room, alone. What if she'd only dreamed since she arrived at the motel, and their argument still had yet to happen? At least she'd be prepared.

But all of her doubts washed away when Edward appeared in the room and at the beside. When he took her hands in his cold palms, Winry knew that the only thing she'd dreamed had been that night terror. She looked in his eyes and saw concern on his features.

"What is it?" he asked softly, rubbing his cold thumbs over her knuckles. That made a little shiver go through her.

But Winry sat still mostly, not sure what to think. "N-Nothing," she said. "I had just thought...I thought you'd left me." His hands over hers so early after such an interesting previous night was horribly distracting.

Ed grinned at her a little. "No, I was just packing up the car. I checked out earlier," he told her.

With a little nod, Winry blushed. "Right. Packing." She offered a shy smile.

He continued grinning at her until he gave her a quick kiss, startling Winry. "Almost done. Hurry up and get dressed so we can go."

That brought the faintest of scowl's to Winry's face. Not just because they had to leave, but because if he hadn't kissed her softly, Winry would have sworn none of thir romantic moments and that attention grabbing kiss had happened. It would not have made her happy if Edward had resorted to his old self again.

But she crawled out of bed and saw some of _her_ clothes (she'd been wearing Edward's clothes since the motel) on the little table. She smiled. It had been unncessary for Edward to retrieve clothes for her when they were going to the house anyway, but sweet all the same. So she quickly snatched up the jeans and sweater and rushed to the bathroom. The thought in her head currently was that, once she got dressed, they could leave. The sooner they could leave, the sooner they'd get home and Winry could take an actual shower with regular shampoo and conditioner, and she could eat real food, and sleep on a real bed. She was due for a good nap, anyway, and there was the possibility of convincing Edward to take one with her, since he'd been sleeping less than she lately. Maybe she was just being worrisome in thinking he'd change to his old ways. Maybe he was just a little stretched and stressed, at the moment.

When the bathroom door clicked shut behind Winry, she had a very sudden, _very_ bad feeling again, like the feeling in her night terror. The feeling was so strong, the clothes in her hands dropped to the floor. There was a strange noise behind Winry, and she hesitated to turn around.

When she did, she immediately screamed as loud as she could, thankful that her throat actually made a noise. One of Winry's greatest fears was not being able to scream when she needed to. Before her was that blob thing from her terror, complete with Ed's mother's face. It was reaching out to Winry with a halfway sorrowful expression on its face. Winry stood where she was, paralyzed in shock and, well, fear.

"Why?" the thing asked softly.

That was all Winry heard or cared to hear before the door burst open and Edward rushed in. The thing disappeared at once, as if shocked or surprised.

Ed's arms went around her in a protective sort of way, and Winry gasped. "What," he asked. "What is it?"

It took a moment for her to breathe again, but finally Winry found her tongue. "There was a thing, a blob. It was in my dream last night, the thing that was trying to kill you. I-It was reaching out to me, and it asked 'why,'" she said quickly.

Winry could literally feel Edwar'd skepticism taking place. So she pulled away and looked at him. "It had your mother's face."

Any look of disbelief on Edward's face turned immediately to shock. "Win, that's not funny," he breathed, stepping back.

She grabbed his arm. "I know it isn't, but it's true!" she continued. "Ed, I swear, I saw it." She paused, and Edward shook his head. "Edward, I—" Then she broke off. She'd mentioned his mother. That had ended whatever logic and unbiased thoughts she'd asked for. "Never mind. I'll just change in the room." She bent to pick up the clothes and brushed past him quickly.

It was going to be a tough few days, Winry could just tell. Edward passed through the room quickly.

Why wouldn't he believe her? Just because it was more or less a little farfetched to believe the blue blob from her night terror that had tried to kill Edward and had the same face as his mother had suddenly appeared and disappeared in the bathroom didn't mean he had to completely shun her! Right? Well, maybe 'a little farfetched' was an understatement. But what about that thing he'd told her about at the nightclub, that shapeshifter that had been posing of her butler? That had been unbelievable, but Winry had believed him. Not only because she'd heard a second account from Armstrong. It was because she figured Edward wouldn't like about something as ridiculous as that, despite his bad habit for practicing lying and stretching the truth to its boundaries and beyond.

It flustered Winry, just in the _slightest,_ that he couldn't believe her as easily as she'd believed him. What did she have to gain by lying about something like that? Especially if it involved his mother! If Winry wanted attention, she could easily gain it by simply demanding it. She didn't have to make up stories.

No, it didn't just fluster her, she thought as she stripped her shirt off, it _hurt_ her. It hurt that he couldn't believe her, couldn't trust her, after all they'd shared. It felt like she _wasn't_ being worrisome, and Ed was slipping back to his old, uncaring self where he didn't want to talk, or even think he needed to talk. That annoyed her, if he was going to slip away from her.

Winry sighed lightly and pulled up the fond memories of their past few days, hoping that they weren't gone forever. Quickly, she changed clothes, a sullen, melancholy expression on her face. A moment after she'd pulled the sweater over her head, Edward knocked and poked his head in the room.

"You ready?" he asked, not knowing he had almost looked in too early.

Winry nodded a little, not hiding her sad expression. "Yeah," she murmured, pulling at her sweater with one hand and holding the other clothes in her other hand, tucked under her arm.

When she started toward the door, Ed stepped into the room a little and reached to take the other clothes from her. "You okay?" His voice was soft when he asked her.

She thought a moment before answering. "Yeah," Winry lied, not meeting his eyes.

But Edward lifted her chin up with his index finger. "Hey," he looked at her seriously, "Winry. Are you okay?"

Winry cleared her throat. Lying was never good. Sometimes it got you out of momentary trouble, but it always caught up with you. So, Winry would have to face it eventually. But then wasn't the best time _or_ place. "We'll talk later, okay?" was the first thing out of her mouth, blessedly. Then she quickly stepped passed him. But Ed was next to her down the long walkway, towards the parking lot. When they reached the opening, the air hadn't cleared much between them, and it made Winry a little uncomfortable. She looked around at the cars.

Al was sitting in their car, parked next to the motorcycle. Both were cranked up. Edward went ahead of Winry and shoved the clothes in the back seat of the car, then pulled out two helmets for the motorcycle. Once the car door was shut and Ed cleared some space, Al began to pull out. Winry stumbled a little. Not that she wasn't wanting to be with Edward, it was just...

The ground was covered with snow!

"Edward?" Winry took the helmet from Edward when he offered it to her. She was debating whether or not to mention the snow. She didn't really have a choice, now that Al was gone. So she sighed.

Ed looked at her. "Yeah?" He pulled the helmet over his head.

She chewed her lip a little and watched Al drive off in the car, disappearing in the morning traffic. Winry felt Edward's gaze on her still. Then she looked at him. "Never mind." It took a lot, but she forced a smile.

As Winry climbed on the motorcycle behind Edward, she offered a silent prayer to God and held on tight.


	23. Pandora's Box

**Disclaimer: I don't own Full Metal Alchemist, or Pandora's Box. Not a song this time. This chapter would have been multi-titled.**

Author's Note: On the note of multi-titled-ness, check out the LJ for notes about the chapter. I won't talk your ears off here. Anyway, this chapter is like, a little over 8000 words to make up for the lag in between updates. o.o Sorry 'bout that. ;; Hope you enjoy.

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Chapter 23: Pandora's Box

It was about two and a half days after leaving the motel that Edward found himself at last. He was sitting in his study, feet propped on his desk and the rest of him leaning far back in his chair. Idly, he was smoking a cigarette, watching the smoke pool then billow away before his unfocused eyes. Behind the expelling of nicotine was his laptop. The screen saver was on, set to a wood fire burning on a black background. It being the closet thing Edward had to a fireplace, he enjoyed it, even though it was more or less a little foolish and pathetic. It brought him comfort, though, when he felt like no one else could. Or would, for that matter.

His eyes focused and his gaze strayed to the clock on the wall. It was nearly midnight. Everyone else was asleep, supposedly. Al had pleaded a headache after some work in his shop about two hours before. Edward had sent Winry to sleep a little after that, telling her she was up past her bedtime. Of course, she hadn't been pleased, but he hadn't heard any complaints from her. It could have been his threat to alchemize the door shut that brought her silence. Or, it could have been because he'd given her a good night kiss. He hadn't thought it was something to shout about, just a short, soft touch. But, obviously, it'd sent Winry away without any more complaints. He chuckled. She was so silly sometimes. But other times, he just didn't know what to say to her.

His mind strayed a little, back to the morning in the motel, when she'd mentioned his mother. Edward had immediately shut off his reasonable thinking and given her a look that would have silenced even the loudest of people. She'd quickly stopped after that, but he knew it wasn't from his look. Winry had known that mentioning his mother so close to _that day_ had not been the best thing. They hadn't spoken much that day. He'd been brooding, and he figured she was kicking herself for bringing it up. But Al...he'd had something to talk about. He hadn't stopped chattering all day, almost. When he hadn't been down in his shop, rearranging things, he had been talking _someone's_ ear off.

Edward almost felt bad because he hadn't shown his usual level of enthusiasm when it came to the amount of projects Al had to do. That meant more money for them, which they were sorely and obviously lacking still. Winry had insisted to go grocery shopping the previous day, and that had blown what little Edward had received on his paycheck. So, Edward was inwardly thrilled about all that Al had to do now. He just felt like a bad older brother for not being supportive.

But anyway, back to the motel. It had been stupid for Edward to shut off his rational thinking. Why would she have said something about his mother if she hadn't seen something? Sure, it was a very farfetched thing for her to say she'd seen a blob with his mother's face in the motel bathroom, and that it had been the same thing from her nightmare. Why couldn't he believe her? She seemed to believe him about Envy, and the nightclub. Edward wanted to kick himself because it was all about his mother. He couldn't accept that it seemed something with his mother's face was "haunting" them so close to her death. So, he swore quietly and muttered, taking a slow drag on his cigarette.

He blew the blue-gray smoke out slowly and watched it in a thin stream in front of him until it dissipated. He knew his study was going to smell like nicotine now, but that's what air freshener was for, right? Edward sighed a little bit. He didn't want tomorrow to come. Why couldn't the world just skip tomorrow and call it even? It wouldn't be even, though. What would he give the world for skipping that day for him? His other arm?

No thanks, Edward thought. He was _not_ going to go through the pain and expense of buying another automail arm. Plus, the maintenance would be horrible. And sure, Pinako Rockbell would owe him at least _something _for taking care of her granddaughter, but Edward wanted to use it for when he really needed it, not to satisfy some other selfish want.

Yes, it was all selfishness, every bit of it down to the first thought of his panic. Edward had been afraid to lose his mother. After the excuse for a father had walked out on him, it had only been Edward, Alphonse, and their mother. Ed still thought that it was their father's fault that his mother had taken ill in the first place. Never mind what the medical researchers said. It was _that man's_ fault. And when Edward had heard that her condition had become worse, an uncontrollable cold fear had latched onto him and refused to let go. It hadn't been a fear for his mother, but a fear for himself. He had been wondering what _he _would do after she was gone, what would happen to _him_. The actual welfare for his mother hadn't really set in until he'd seen her at the hospital with tubes coming out of her from nearly every orifice. It had stirred him.

From then, he'd furthered the selfishness by, well, continuing, really. It was just like a lie; it kept growing. He'd given his arm and leg for a selfish desire (desperation had set in), and he was still paying his dues for that with the slight hassle of his automail. He'd already paid the automail itself off, it was just the maintenance and upkeep that was a constant reminder of his sin, his selfishness.

Edward's gaze strayed to his laptop screen when he saw the screen change. When he put his feet on the floor to lean forward, he tapped his cigarette out in an ash tray and looked at the little "reminder" window. There were five words on it: "Don't be afraid to cry." Winry must have set it, because he didn't remember typing it. But, even as Edward read the words, he told himself he didn't need to cry. But if he didn't need to cry, why were there tears running down his cheeks?

Carefully, he brushed them away. It was fruitless as more tears replaced them. Maybe Edward _did_ need to cry. It was just, he didn't want to. Why exactly, he didn't quite know. But he couldn't stop the tears from going down his cheeks, though he did try. So, he leaned forward and rested his face in his hands.

The tears of loss and sorrow continued to fall quietly. To finally release the feelings felt good. It made him feel free, in a sense. The weight, the burden of keeping it all to himself, lightened on his shoulders.

So when he looked up, testing himself, Edward was a little surprised to see Alphonse standing in the doorway. On the younger man's face was a slightly confused look. But Edward had the feeling that Al was only a little confused, while Edward was feeling rather embarrassed. So, he swiped his eyes, frustrated to still feel moisture there, and looked away.

He just wanted to be alone, to have people leave him be while he cried for his loss. But instead, he only heard his brother step further into the room and speak his name softly.

Edward lifted his gaze to his brother's and felt his frustration and embarrassment wash away. Left in its place was the previous feelings he'd been releasing, the pain and sorrow. He knew it was showing in his eyes, though he could do nothing to hide it away. He saw Al take in the expression. He wanted to look away again--he was almost ashamed of his tears--but he knew that, if he did, it would be shutting the door between them again.

Instead of looking away, Edward cleared his throat a little. "I'm brooding. Do you mind?" he mumbled. Maybe if he acted like he wanted to be alone, Al would just go back to sleep, and they'd talk in the morning.

Al lifted an eyebrow and looked at his brother. "You're crying," he mumbled. A slightly helpless look went over his face, but it wasn't there long enough for Edward to identify it exactly. Al looked for a clock. "Is it...?"

Edward sighed. Then he nodded a little, switching his gaze to the reminder on his computer. "Yeah." He didn't have to ask what his brother meant. He knew Al was asking about the anniversary.

Alphonse was silent for a few moments before speaking again. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly, folding his arms across his chest.

Still, Edward battled with the want to be alone, not needing anyone, and actually wanting to talk to someone. Part of him wanted to be alone for the day, just like he had been for the past three years. Another part wanted to be with someone, just to talk or even just to sit with in case he needed some silent form of comfort. And even though Edward knew that Al had always respected Ed's decision to be alone on the anniversary, he had a feeling that his younger brother was going to be there for him, whether Edward wanted it or not. So, he nodded his head. "I guess so." He shrugged. "As okay as I can be at the moment," he said softly, leaning back in his chair. He looked at his brother.

Why wasn't he asleep still? It was midnight; usually everyone was asleep by then, even Edward. They never practiced staying up late; the only times they were up past midnight was for occasions as this one. But even then, it was usually just Edward. His coffee kept him company. It was a little awkward for them to be just standing and sitting there, staring at each other almost uncomfortably. Edward was just curious why Al was up; he had no clue why his brother was awake.

"Shouldn't you be asleep?" Edward finally asked, giving his brother an expectant look.

Al shook his head. "Had to use the bathroom," he said simply. "Then got a drink of water."

Edward nodded a little, and looked around. There was that feeling that his brother wanted to talk about something that Edward might get upset about. That left Edward to wonder what it was about, and when Al would open his mouth.

He didn't have to wait long; only a few minutes later, Al spoke up. "Edward?" He sounded a little nervous.

Edward looked at Al again. "Yeah?" he said knowingly. Now he just had to wait for what the question entailed.

Al squirmed a little, then sat on the edge of Edward's desk. Then he fidgeted his hands, smoothing down the legs of his pants and pulling on his shirt. But finally, Al looked at Edward. "I don't know if you've noticed, but...Winry...she really does love you. I know you're trying to ignore that because of what happened with Rochelle."

A scowl immediately placed itself on Ed's features. "Don't talk about Rochelle."

The younger Elric frowned a little, disappointed. The incident with Rochelle had been years ago, and Edward was still sore about it? No wonder his relationship with Quintus had been so pathetic. More so, it didn't leave much wondering room why Ed tried to suppress the feelings he had for Winry. "Edward, just listen. Winry is good for you. She doesn't put up with your bad attitude, she's not afraid of you, like some people would be, and she accepts that you have metal prosthetics. She accepts _why _you have them, too! Not many people believe that you can live after a human transmutation, much less accept you easily." Al took a deep breath. "But you keep pushing her away, Brother."

Edward looked away halfway through his brother's monologue. He really didn't want to hear it, not at that moment. Maybe later on in life, sure, but not then.

"I know how you feel about her," Al said softly, looking up.

That made Edward's head snap up, but he pretended to keep a cool expression. "And how do I feel about her?" he returned evenly. They both knew it was dangerous ground they were treading, and Edward hoped he could keep his frustration in check. So, he looked back down into his lap like it didn't bother him.

Alphonse was silent for a moment and swallowed. "You love her."

There was complete silence for about three, long seconds. In those three seconds, Edward looked up at his brother once more with every emotion he'd ever felt in his eyes and on his face. He had time to blink once and the emotions disappeared again. Alphonse returned the look with some glimmer of hope that he'd reached through to his brother. Those three seconds were a small time that neither man would forget. They felt like they'd lasted longer than three seconds should have been able to.

But then they ended what felt like far too soon when Edward pushed away from his chair and started towards the door. "I don't have time for this," Edward said darkly. He was going to go to sleep; he didn't want to hear it anymore.

"Brother, wait," Al said, stepping in front of Edward. The younger man used his height to his advantage and gave Edward a stern look. Edward stared back for a few moments, then sighed. "Why won't you tell her? What is so bad about letting her know how you feel?"

Ed turned his face towards the ground and frowned. What _was_ so bad, really, with letting her know? Maybe because he was afraid. But what else was there to be afraid of? Edward Elric, slightly famed alchemist-police officer of Central City's Criminal Intelligence Division, surviver of two human human transmutations, wasn't afraid of commitment, was he?

Like heck he was.

But he wasn't going to tell _anyone_ that, least of all his brother. And, when Edward looked up at his brother, the taller but younger man appeared to be steeled for a speech. Ed knew he would deserve every word of it, too, so he'd listen, even though he didn't want to. A sigh was his way to let Alphonse know he could begin.

"You need to tell her you love her, Edward. You may not be able to tell right now, but she's slowly falling apart. I can see it. Every time I look at her, when she looks at you, it's a mix of happiness and sadness, at the same time. Over the past few weeks, since the nightclub, she's been a lot more sad than usual." Al paused. "She loves you, really. But she won't wait forever for you to do something about it. If you want to be with her, Edward, you need to tell her how you feel. It can't be that hard, right?"

A cryptic smile curved onto Edward's lips. If only it were that simple. Ed had noticed the same thing, actually, about Winry. But he hadn't realized it'd been for so long that she'd been feeling, well, sad. He'd noticed since the motel incident. But that had mostly been because he'd blown her off about his mother. Maybe he should apologize? He couldn't very well say he was sorry at the moment, though, and he'd probably forget to another time. Best leave the apologizing for another day and another time.

"Please, Brother, I don't want to see either of you hurting like you are now," Alphonse said quietly. It was his turn to look away.

Edward took that as a signal the conversation was over and started towards the door. But Alphonse had one last question...

"What makes Winry so different that you're afraid to be with her?" Al asked quietly. He sounded a little sullen.

At the doorway, Edward stopped. He put his hand on the wooden frame and looked at the floor with the same smile as before. What made it so different? "Because I really do love her," he whispered. Then he left.

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Twenty minutes later, Edward stood, staring at his reflection in his bathroom mirror. Water dripped from his face. There were streaks of dirt, mixing with the water, being the only other evidence on his person (besides dirt under his nails) of Edward's outing outside in the middle of the night. The soiled clothing was in the washroom, waiting for attention it wouldn't receive until the next morning. His hair had a little dirt in it, but it could be brushed out.

Carefully, he splashed more cold water on his face to wash off the rest of the dirt. Without lifting his gaze back to his reflection, Ed reached for a towel to dry his face. Once he felt his face was dry, he turned his gaze to the mirror. Immediately after, he made a frustrated noise and brushed away the moisture falling from his eyes.

Edward turned his attention to the wooden box sitting on top of the toilet. The wood was dark, moist and stained from dirt. The paint that had been at one time ornamental was now chipped in more than a few places. Even though it had been underground for a while, the paint was slightly faded, or at least darkened from absorbing the soil that had surrounded it for years. There was still a little bit of dirt on it, but Edward grabbed a moist cloth to remedy that.

He sat himself on the floor in a pathetical act. Carefully, showing just how much the box meant to Edward, he reached up and pulled it into his lap. Some of the dirt rubbed onto his sleep pants, but he didn't care. As though he was wiping blood away from someone's wound, he softly wiped the dirt off of the box. He sniffed a few times, holding back tears in his actions, and cleared his throat. Edward's hand shook as he turned the box over to wipe away the dirt from the underside of the box.

When he finished cleaning off the box, he set it on the floor with the same caution he'd been handling the wooden container with. His left hand continued to shake slightly as he reached for the lid. The moment his hand touched the lock, he could feel the alchemy with which he'd sealed the metal. Ed drew his hands back and clapped them together softly. Between his metal and flesh palms and fingertips, he could feel the soft sizzle of alchemy. Slowly, he reached out to touch the box, but his hands stopped a very small distance away. He held himself in a standstill, wanting so much to undo the alchemy on the lock and wanting to leave it closed.

Mentally, he began to weigh out the results of each situation. If he left it shut, he'd have to wait another year before he even thought of it again. That would be more time for him to think of and prepare himself for the contents of the box. He knew some of the items in the box; others, he was afraid to know what they were. That was one of the factors that stayed his hands: fear of the unknown.

However, if Edward opened it, he'd no longer have that fear of not knowing what was in the box. He'd be able to see what he'd feared for three years, what had kept him awake at night many a time, what had haunted his waking thoughts on those dark, lonely days in which he felt ultimately alone.

But did he have to be alone? Did he have to face his fears by himself, seeking no comfort in a willing embrace? Was there no one to hold him and protect him from the desires he sought to know, yet feared? Was he forever destined to be alone, facing things without a true home to return to or someone who loved him to embrace him?

Slowly, Edward pulled his hands away from the box and touched the handle on the bathroom door, undoing the alchemy he'd used there, instead of on the box. He stood up, carefully taking the box with him. Edward held it against his chest as a child would hold onto a stuffed animal, desperate for comfort. With some obvious hesitance, he put his hand over the handle. Did he _really_ want to do this? Did he _really_ want to awaken such memories that he'd been content to leave in his backyard, untouched and mostly forgotten?

With a frustrated sigh, Edward squared his shoulders and opened the door. He walked out into his room, clutching the box like a life preserver. As he approached his bed, where Winry lay in sleep, Edward felt his heartrate increase and his palm go damp. He was so nervous. Edward didn't want to open the box alone, and the only person he knew that could give him the strength to look at each item inside was Winry. But, he didn't know how she would react to his request, to be with him as he dug through items of his past, things he knew and things he didn't. He also didn't know how she would respond to seeing the tears he knew would be flowing freely over his face.

But he had to do this. He had to look through the box, one way or another, alone or with her aid.

So, when Edward reached his bed, he sat down on the side with one leg bent in front of his chest and the other stretched out. He set the box beside his leg and stared at it. Once more, he felt the overwhelming fear of the unknown and the fear of his past. He was seriously contemplating putting the box back in the hole in his backyard he'd dug up with his hands. Edward took a slow breath and shut his eyes.

As he was about to step off of his bed to put the box away, he felt Winry stir. A moment later, he heard her voice in his ears. "Edward...what is it?" she asked, her voice heavy with sleep.

Edward started a little when he heard her voice, but looked down at her. "Winry..." How was he going to say this? How was he going to ask her to do what he needed her for? He placed his hands over the box with a soft sigh. "I need your help," he whispered.

There was silence in which Ed thought Winry had fallen asleep again. He started to stand up again. "With what?" Winry sat up, holding the blankets up to keep some semblance of warmth in the cold air of Edward's room.

Edward held his silence. His fingers clutched the wooden box under his hands, and his face contorted with frustration. He could literally feel the memories and the pain emanating from the wood, begging to be brought to the light. Edward pursed his lips together and let the feelings encompass him for a few moments before he spoke. "My past." He kept his voice quiet, not sure of how the following time spent with Winry would go.

Winry was silent as well, but a moment later he felt her wrap her arms around him. Edward stiffened in surprise. But when Winry spoke again, he relaxed. "I'll help you however I can, Edward," she said quietly in his ear. Then he felt her kiss his cheek before pulling away. When he heard Winry settle herself close to him, Edward tapped his hands on the box softly, as though trying to stir up the thoughts and feelings inside it. "What is that?"

He cleared his throat. "A box," he said softly. "It has...it has memories in it." He paused. "Things Mustang put in for me after my mom died and--" Ed's voice caught in his throat "--and things my mom put in there." He fell silent once more.

After a few moments, he felt Winry cover his flesh hand with hers. He cleared his throat and shrugged a little. When he was silent long enough, he felt Winry shift beside him. "Do you want me to look through it with you?" she asked softly, rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand.

Edward nodded. "Yes," he managed. He saw Winry smile out of the corner of his eye before she turned away to switch on his lamp. The light illuminated the room, but just barely. It made Edward feel a little better, though, to have that much light in his dark situation.

When he didn't move, he could tell Winry was feeling in the slightest bit impatient about the matter, but she masked it well. "Aren't you going to open it?" she asked from beside him. Her voice and gaze alike were soft on him.

With another pause for a few seconds, Edward nodded. "Yes," he said again. Then he clapped his hands, triggering his alchemy, and slowly lowered his hands to the box. There was a small blue light that came from the lock and a quiet crackling from the transmutation. Even after the light subsided, Edward kept his hands over the box, unmoving.

Fear gripped him once more. He was one step closer to finding out a part of his past he'd never seen before, and it scared him more than anything else ever had. He wasn't sure he wanted to continue. It would only take a few more seconds to lock the box again and put it away, out of sight and out of mind. That idea was becoming increasingly more appealing as thoughts and possibilities swept in his mind like a dark fog. The light from the lamp appeared to dim under his oppressing thoughts. His room felt a little more stuffy with his fear as it grew around him. His thoughts came less and less as the darkness overtook him, making him tremble.

But a moment later, he felt Winry's hand on his arm and it all disappeared. His trembles ceased; his ability to think returned; the room lightened; and he could breathe easier. All of that happened in the moment that he saw Winry's encouraging smile. So, he pushed his shoulders back and covered her hand with his. "Winry," he began, "before I open the box...I need you to promise me something." Edward looked at her seriously.

She continued to smile at him. "Anything, Edward," she murmured to him, the obvious joy she could help him in her blue eyes.

He took a deep breath. "Do whatever it takes to make me look through this box. Don't let me run away from this," he whispered, looking away.

"I promise I'll help you, Edward," she told him softly, slipping her hand down to his again.

A moment later, Ed lifted his gaze back to Winry's. "One last thing." His golden gaze pierced her blue one. Winry looked at him expectantly. He paused, unsure. Edward wasn't sure how to put his thoughts into words. He was thinking as he had earlier that he would need someone to hold him, to protect him from this, but he wasn't sure how to tell her that.

Winry lifted her hand to his cheek. "Don't be afraid," she told him. As though she could read his thoughts, Winry put her hand over his once more and continued speaking with, "I'm here with you."

He held her gaze for a few more moments before he nodded his thanks. Then he lowered his eyes to the box. Edward saw Winry's hand covering his. As he opened the top of the box, it was as though they were opening it together. That would have made Edward smile if a small phial hadn't immediately fallen out of the box.

With that small bottle came memories flooding back to Edward, _bad_ memories. His hand shook violently as he touched the cool glass. Slowly, he lifted it in front of his face. It appeared to be black and brown dust, but Edward knew better. He remembered the day that Mustang had driven him to the crematorium to retrieve his mother's ashes. Then he remembered as he'd separated some of her ashes, pouring them into the glass bottle. It felt like that day had only been yesterday as he quickly put the phial back in the box. The pain was still so fresh in his mind, and his heart.

Edward reached for the top of the box to shut it, but he felt Winry's arms go around him tightly. "No, _no_, Edward," she said in his ear, almost desperate. "Don't be afraid," she whispered again. "I'm here with you. We'll do this together."

He struggled, attempting to free himself of her grasp, keep his tears at bay, and shut the lid of the box all at the same time. But Winry's hold on him was firm, pinning his arms to his sides. Edward sniffed loudly and stopped struggling suddenly. He could feel Winry's want to help him, to guide him through this painful ordeal. How could he resist it when it was so powerful?

When he felt her hot tears against his shoulder, that was Edward's undoing and his own tears coursed down his face. He began to shake again in Winry's embrace. But before he could content himself to be in her arms, Winry let go of him and put her hands over his.

"We'll do this together, Edward," she whispered once more in his head.

Winry lifted the lid of the box with him again. The phial didn't fall out this time, but it was on top. Edward reached for it on his own and lifted it once more. He could feel patience, now, from Winry as she looked at the phial over his shoulder. "Some of my mother's ashes," he whispered. "We have the rest buried in a cemetary."

"Edward," she whispered, putting one of her hands over his arm and rubbing her thumb on his skin gently.

He cleared his throat a little and reached for the next item in the box. It was a yellowed newspaper clipping in a clear sheaf. Edward scanned the page a few times. "The obituary," he said quietly. He handed it to Winry so she could read it. Edward had memorized it long ago.

The golden haired man looked back down into the box and saw some old photos of them, ranging from when they'd been children on through their teenage years to just a few weeks before the accident. Edward lifted them out individually and looked at them, studying the pictures he hadn't seen in so long. He hadn't made copies of them, so it was like seeing them again for the first time. The main reason why there were no duplicates was because he hadn't been able to find the other pictures or the negatives.

One picture was of Trisha and Alphonse when Al had been about five years of age. They were at the park, walking down the sidewalk, hands clasped. Trisha was looking down at her youngest son with a soft smile on her face and shining in her eyes. Alphonse looked at though he was talking almost ceaselessly with an intent look on his face. When Edward lifted his eyes above them, he saw a tree and legs dangling from a very low branch. He could only assume that it was his legs, and he and Alphonse had been in another fight and Edward had been the one to flee. He smiled a little at the glossy image.

The second picture was of Trisha sitting in a rocking chair with a leather bound book in her lap. There was a thoughtful expression on her face as she looked down at the pages. For as long as Edward could remember back in his childhood, he remembered that his mother would always work in that book. Her scrapbook. It was her escape, he remembered she had referred to it as at one point in time. If she'd been feeling sad or depressed, then she would look at the pictures and add a few more. She had let him look at it a few times, but as he'd grown older she had stopped letting him look in it, saying that it would ruin the surprise. He hadn't understood what she'd meant. Maybe he never would...

He looked over a few other pictures of the three of them together. There were a few with his father and mother together. Edward was loathe to admit he'd put them in there, and that the man was even his father since he'd left when Edward had been about five or six. But he couldn't deny the fact that the man was part of his life, or how much he looked like his father. That, he wanted to admit even less.

But all of the pictures he studied intently and each individually, memorizing every detail and remembering each event. He let Winry look at them, but he said nothing about any of them to her, only let her assume what she would about them. Edward's gaze was set more intently upon the next item in the box after he finished looking through the pictures.

There was a neatly folded and packed in shirt, the last item before he reached the things his mother had put in. He stared at the soft lavender shirt unblinkingly and unseeing. Memories of when his mother had worn the shirt were running through his memory without pause. It felt like an onslaught, a horrible attack on his mind. It was painful, to say the least, to look at it and have her scent coming up to him, triggering more and more thoughts.

With great effort, Edward tore his eyes away from the box and looked at Winry. He knew there was pain written on his face and in his eyes. "I don't want to do this anymore," he whispered. "It hurts." He went to clench his hands into fists, but found Winry had taken them both in hers softly.

She leaned towards him slowly and kissed him. Edward shut his eyes and let her do as she wanted. But she didn't hold the touch for long before she let go of his right hand and lifted her hand to his cheek. She smiled at him a little. "I'm here with you, Edward. Let me help you, like you asked me to do." Winry brushed her thumb across his cheekbone before she kissed him again. Then she moved her hand to his neck and let her hand slide down his back, as though physically removing his pain.

Indeed, Edward felt lighter as he reached for the shirt. At first, he fingered the material softly before he actually lifted it out of the box. As he held the shirt in his hands, he felt the memories of his mother returning, but not as painfully. It hurt to remember her, but it wasn't overwhelming like before. It felt like he had when he'd been looking at the pictures, just remembering things and committing other things to his memory.

Slowly, Edward lifted it to his face and breathed in the scent. He felt like a child again when he'd been seeking comfort from his mother. He had buried his face in her stomach many a time to just cry to her after a particularly frustrating day at school or a bad fight with Alphonse...or just a bad day from the moment he'd gotten out of bed. Even in his teenage years, he'd done the like when things had become too much. Edward felt the tears springing to his eyes to relive an old memory. When he felt arms go around his shoulders, it scared Edward for a moment. But then he heard Winry making soothing noises to him and felt her smoothing her hand over his head.

Edward shook his head a little, sniffing. "Gotta finish it," he murmured, pulling away from Winry. He didn't pull away because he didn't want to be held; he really did want comfort. But he knew he had to finish what he'd started. He'd opened up Pandora's Box already; he couldn't just shut it halfway through the release. He'd miss the hope at the bottom.

So, he turned to look at the box. He looked in and saw a small velvet box, a slightly bigger box, and a leatherbound book. _The_ leatherbound book from the picture and Edward's memory. He swallowed as he reached for the smaller velvet box first. He recognized it as a ring box; who wouldn't? But why would she leave behind a ring for them?

When he opened the lid, a folded piece of paper fell out. He almost missed it, but Winry picked it up and placed it in his hand. Edward had almost forgotten she was there, he'd been so caught up in his memories and thoughts. He carefully unfolded the paper and looked at it. It was a note from his mother, reading:

_'My dearest Edward, as you read this, I am watching you from above. And because you're reading this, it means you've found the ring I left for you. It was my wedding ring that your father gave to me. I know you prefer not to speak of your father, but please don't let your feelings for or against him keep you from giving the ring to the woman you love. It gave me a wonderful marriage with your father, when he was still with us; I give it to you in hopes that it will do the same for you. With the ring, I send my love and blessings to you and your bride, wishing you both many years of love and happiness._

_'I love you, my son. Treat your wife well. Love and cherish her always. You will receive that love back, tenfold in so many wonderful events in your life.'_

Edward sniffed and wiped away his tears quickly before they fell onto the paper. He heard Winry sniffle from beside him. But she wasn't looking at him or the paper. She was looking down in her lap. Edward turned his gaze to her questioningly, but she shook her head, smiling a little. "Don't worry, I'm okay," she told him. "You're almost at the bottom."

Then he remembered the box. His eyes went back to the few remaining contents and he saw the box and the scrapbook. He went to lift the lid on the box, but stopped himself. "This isn't for me," he whispered. He lifted the box itself and set it aside. For some reason, he just knew it was for Alphonse. Edward wouldn't poke into that, as it was probably something private, like the note to him had been. And as he lifted the scrapbook out, Edward ran his fingers over the leather and placed it in his lap. He touched the edges of it, wondering if he should open it to look in yet. He half thought he should wait to look through it with Alphonse the next morning, but his other half was dying to see what his mother had made in it.

"Edward?" he heard Winry say from beside him.

He turned his gaze to her to see her looking at him intently and rather impatiently. It seemed like she was as curious as he was about the inside of the book. But, it just didn't feel right for Edward to look in it without his brother. The three items in the box had been meant for both of them. They had their separate parting gifts from their mother, but the scrapbook seemed like a gift for the two together. Ed didn't want to look through it without Alphonse.

So, he smiled slightly at Winry and placed the scrapbook beside him. "Will you help me?" he asked her for the second time that early morning. But this time, he meant it on such a simpler level.

Winry looked at him, a little confused at first, until she seemed to figure out what he'd meant. He watched her take his mother's shirt in her hands and take extra care as she folded it neatly, as it had been before. He smiled, truly glad that she had been with him. Edward had no clue what he would have done without her. Actually, he probably would have been asleep on the couch feeling rather pathetic and miserable when he woke up.

Carefully, he took the shirt from Winry and set it in the box. But then he heard Winry's voice from beside him. "Aren't you going to put those in?" She pointed at the scrapbook, the box for Alphonse, and the box holding the wedding ring.

Edward shook his head. "No. The bigger box is for Alphonse; I'll give that to him in the morning. Then we can look at the scrapbook." He paused for a moment. "All of us," he added for Winry. He saw her head snap up from looking at the pictures, and she looked to be somewhat in shock. A small smile touched his face.

"O-okay," Winry said. Then she handed him the pictures carefully, an awkward smile on her face as she did so.

In a few short minutes, the items were back in the box, save the scrapbook, the ring box, and Alphonse's box. Edward set the box on his desk, which he _had_ taken notice of it being straightened. When he turned again to go back to his bed, Edward frowned a little. The reality of what he'd done and what he'd seen was setting in to him now. He walked sullenly around the end of his bed and sat down, his back to Winry. He felt her eyes on him, but ignored her.

Going through his head were so many memories and thoughts, good and bad. He'd been perfectly content with his life a few months ago, even with the knowledge of the anniversary of his mother's death approaching. He had assumed he'd deal with it as he had every year, brooding in his study and attempting to dig up the box in his backyard. Each year, though, his depression around Christmas had been worsening steadily. But this year, since he'd talked about it, he'd been able to dig up the box. Maybe he hadn't been ready to see inside of it yet, all of the things he'd halfway forgotten about, but he'd had Winry there for him. He'd asked her to promise him to make him look through everything, and she'd kept that promise. For better or worse, he didn't know. He'd just have to find out.

With a sigh, Edward lay back onto his bed and shut his eyes. He just wanted to go to sleep and digest everything that had happened later in his life. Maybe when he wasn't so tired. He frowned a little. He'd been awake for about twenty hours with no rest between. It felt good to lie down on something soft and familiar. He felt his consciousness slowly falling away from him.

Then he felt his pillow give a little at the side of his head. Edward opened his eyes to see Winry above him. Her eyes were fixed on his seriously. She looked to have so much she wanted to ask him in her eyes. He knew she couldn't though. So he sighed and turned his face away, looking towards his door.

"Edward," she whispered, lifting her thumb to his hair. He felt her hook her thumb in his hair tie on the end of his braid softly.

He kept his gaze away from hers as he pursed his lips and squinted his eyes shut. Tears were stinging his eyes and he didn't want Winry to see them. But she repeated his name with a tone in her voice that made Edward turn his face to look at her. Before he could respond, he felt Winry's mouth cover his firmly, as though daring him to try to pull away from her. But he didn't move. He remained sedate beneath her as Winry kissed him, keeping his eyes open. When she pulled away, her eyes slowly opened and fell on him. She made a frustrated noise before she kissed him again, but with a little more force this time. Still, Edward remained ungiving beneath her.

When Winry realized her attempts were useless, she pulled back and swore. "Edward..." she sighed, looking away. "You're such a jerk." He felt her pull the hair tie from his braid as she turned her face back to his. "But I love you anyway."

Edward furrowed his brow in frustration, finally showing some form of emotion besides depression. "Hey now," he began. He was ready to tell her off now. But, he was cut off when Winry kissed him again.

Apparently, she'd planned to annoy him so she could get under his barrier of emotion and awaken some other feelings in him. Edward forced himself to remain impassive, though his fingers were itching to touch her. He could feel Winry's frustration in the third kiss, and it would have amused him if he wasn't busy trying to stay unresponsive.

He felt Winry shift on his bed, leaning closer to him so she could put more passion into what probably felt like a one-sided kiss. Well, it may have been a one-sided kiss, but Edward was having a hard time keeping it that way. He especially had a hard time with it when Winry pulled away with a frustrated noise. "Edward," she whispered, leaning her forehead on the pillow next to his. Her breath was warm against his skin when she spoke. "Would you just...?" She broke off with another annoyed sound. She lifted her head once more and kissed him again, reaching down to grab his hand. He felt her lift his hand by his wrist and place it over the small of her back.

Winry leaned closer. Edward made no movement to further the action or take away from it, choosing to remain indifferent.

When he felt Winry's attempts to deepen the kiss on her own by opening her mouth over his, Edward couldn't help his faint smile against her. He was halfway enjoying her frustration, but wouldn't let her know. That just might make her smack him.

After a few moments, she seemed to give up. Almost as quickly as the amusement and the want to respond to Winry, it disappeared and Edward felt his depression seeping in once more. As Winry pulled away and sat up with a sullen expression on her face, Edward frowned as well, his gold eyes filled with sadness _he _could even feel. He turned onto his side and looked at the wall. A sigh escaped, and as he breathed out, Edward felt like a small weight was pressed on him.

He felt a little bad now for rejecting Winry's affections. He didn't know what had caused her to kiss him thusly, and now he probably never would. Ed could imagine she was feeling a little hurt by his actions, but he could do nothing to change them now. So, he would remain cold and hard. Just for the night, though. In the morning, he would thank her in his own way for being with him. He shut his eyes in thought of what he could do for her.

As sleep began to drift in Edward's mind once more, he felt the bed give behind him. Almost immdiately after, he felt Winry's arm go around his waist, tucking him to her. He smiled a little.

Even though he'd pushed her away...so many times...she still loved him. That's what she'd said, right? He was a jerk, but she love him anyway. Ed's mind drifted back about an hour previous, back to his conversation with his brother. He yawned thoughtfully.

"Maybe Al was right," he mumbled, already half-asleep.

Winry stirred behind him, and kissed the back of his neck. "Hmm?"

"Maybe...I _should_ tell you." Ed's voice was heavy with exhaustion as he spoke.

But Winry seemed to wake up a little more behind him, though she didn't move. "Tell me what?" she asked him. When Edward didn't respond, she squeezed his middle gently to obtain his attention. "Tell me what?" the blond woman repeated, more insistant this time.

But her words fell on unhearing ears. Edward's mind was already in a soft retreat of slumber, no longer troubled by the thoughts that ever plagued his waking mind.

* * *

Winry sighed when she realized Edward was asleep. That was going to bother her now, until he told her whatever it was he and Al had talked about. But, she rolled her eyes inwardly as she settled herself against Edward's back comfortably again. He was tired, and he needed to rest. She would interrogate him later. She was just glad she'd been there for him when he needed her. That's what meant the most to her, and it left a smile on her face as she drifted off into sleep. 


	24. The Tower

**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA, or the Shrimp Shishkebab. Nor do I own the song, "The Tower," by Vienna Teng.**

Author's Note: Well...it's been over a month. Oopsie. But, I have 6400 words for you. ;) So, be happy. If you have been checking the LJ, you will know I'm in Alaska, visiting family. Hence the bought of inspiration to reach more than 5000 words in a few days. Anyhow...this is a Winry perspective chapter. You all will be glad to know that I have up to chapter 27+ (yes, possibly further than chapter 27) planned out in my head. Whoot! And read the note at the end for a pleasant surprise...

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* * *

Chapter 24: The Tower**

Winry woke early the next morning. She was rather warm, in comparison to the previous mornings since returning to Edward's house from the motel. She liked the change. It was very nice to wake up to warmth rather than a cold, empty bed. It was especially cold in the Elric house this morning for some reason unknown to Winry. She shivered a little and snuggled closer to that, oh, so lovely warmth. Hesitantly, she opened her eyes and saw the dark material of Edward's shirt. Winry involuntarily blushed, but rested her head on his chest anyway.

Sometime during the night, he had turned so he was facing her, instead of his back, and managed to put his arm around her. That caused Winry to be pretty much stuck where she was until he moved, woke up as well, or she achieved the task of carefully moving his arm off of her waist. Luckily, it was his flesh arm rather than the heavy steel of his automail. That might have been a little uncomfortable and rather difficult to move. But he wouldn't feel it; he couldn't feel anything in his metal limbs. Right?

Just to test, out of sheer curiosity, Winry sought out his left foot with her right foot. She knew she'd found it when her toes touched cold metal. It made her shiver. But once that subsided, she rubbed her toe against the metal; there was no response from Edward. She chuckled a little as she lifted her head, pressing a small kiss on his chin. After a few moments of enjoying the fact that he could feel absolutely nothing in his metal limbs, Winry felt a yawn coming on.

Carefully, Winry pushed herself up onto her hands and tossed her head back, her hair falling over her shoulders. A few pops sounded from her neck as the movement released the pressure between her joints. That might hurt later. With a sigh, Winry turned a little so she was sitting, facing the wall. Her left hand was near Edward's hand, where it had fallen off of her back. She smiled and touched his skin lightly. He was warm from sleep still.

She turned her head and looked down at him, still smiling. But her smile faded when she saw Edward's eyelids squeezed shut. His eyes were moving rapidly in his dream. There was a small amount of perspiration on his face, but more than there should have been in his sleep. That worried Winry. She slowly reached out and touched his shoulder. Through his shirt, his skin almost burned her. Why was he so hot?

"Edward," she said softly. He hadn't felt like this when she'd been lying down with him. "Edward, wake up." Winry gently pushed his shoulder. His eyes continued to move rapidly beneath his closed lids, making her wonder what he was dreaming. "Edward," she said again, a little louder.

It happened so fast, Winry couldn't respond at first. The moment his name left her mouth a third time, Edward shot to a sitting position and threw his arms around her neck. His action had been so sudden; it left Winry wondering what to do. His harsh, quick breaths in her ear sounded akin to small, ragged sobs. It tore at Winry's heart to hear him. Aside from his pitiful breathing, Edward was hot and trembling in her arms, his body damp with feverish sweat. Was he...was he running a fever? Winry slipped one of her hands beneath his hair and felt his skin on his neck. It was rather warm, but he didn't feel feverish.

"Edward," she said softly, dragging one of her hands down his back slowly.

They both stayed silent for a few more moments until Winry felt Edward move his arms a little. The metal of his automail clinked a bit in her ear. A feeling of uneasiness on the alchemist's part began to manifest between them. No matter what, Winry knew that Edward would always be a little afraid of touch, and she knew, especially after last night, he was probably even a little wary of how _she_ would react to _him_.

So after a few more moments, Winry brushed a very light kiss against the end of Ed's jaw line before she let go of him. But surprisingly, before she was even able to put two inches of distance between them, Edward pulled her close to him again, a little tighter than before. If a little startled, Winry remained where she was, perfectly still, with Edward's arms around her shoulders and his face pressed against her neck in the slightest. It was, to say the least, a little strange feeling, but welcome nevertheless.

She wanted to say something, anything at all, but no words were coming to mind to speak. Either they sounded funny or they just didn't sound right.

After a few more moments of searching for words, Winry finally let go of that thought and relaxed in Edward's arms. A blush touched her cheeks as she bent her head a little so only her eyes could be seen above his shoulder.

Winry didn't know what to do. She didn't know whether to speak or to stay quiet. She didn't know if she wanted to stay like this or pull away. She basically didn't know which way was up! It was a scary, slightly annoying feeling, but she couldn't do anything about it until she figured things out. If she spoke...it might break the spell of what was between them. That would be find and dandy if she knew whether she _wanted_ to pull away or continue to be with Edward this way. So she buried her face further into his shoulder, blushing a bit more.

How was it this man could make her feel so...confused?

Before she could answer any questions she was asking herself, the phone rang. Winry could feel Edward hesitating to answer it, unsure as well if he wanted to let her go or not. But after a few moments, he pulled away from her, leaving Winry feeling a little cold again.

She watched Edward as he twisted around to grab the phone. When he answered, it was with a very curt, "Hello." Winry shook her head, smiling a little cynically. He was so rude, especially in the mornings. But she loved him for it anyway.

Winry took the opportunity to get out of bed to use the bathroom while Edward was on the phone. As she stood up, she saw the promise chest on his desk. The memory of what was inside made Winry shiver a little. She didn't know what to make of it all. Last night had been so...strange. She'd seen a side of Edward she'd never seen before, and she wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing. She honestly did not know what to think. It had seemed so different for him to be so...needy. He'd needed comfort, love, assurance; he had just _needed_ in general. Winry even dared to say he had needed to be _needed_ by someone. It was a very big contrast to his usually independent, not-really-needing-anyone-or-anything self. When he'd woken her up, Winry had almost been in a panic, thinking something was wrong. Something _had_ been wrong, but not what she had expected. And to hear him ask her for help had left one question in her mind that still was not answered: Why?

She hadn't asked him—she'd been too afraid to ask since it probably would have made him turn away with a harsh "never mind" if she had. Winry knew why he'd needed help; looking at his past like that must have been hard. He'd wanted to call it off after seeing the first thing out of the box. But the why that Winry really wondered was: why her?

Why hadn't he gone to Alphonse with the box? Surely Edward could have related better with his brother concerning the items in the box. Why had Ed gone to her, instead?

Winry sighed as she closed the bathroom door. To have seen Edward crying as they looked through the box together had been...stirring? She'd seen him cry before, but not like that. He'd seemed to really release everything: his fear, his guilt, and his regret. Everything. He released it all much more so than he had at the motel after telling her his "story."

Winry couldn't imagine how it had probably felt to experience everything Edward had gone through. And to have his metal prosthetics as a constant reminder of what he'd done just seemed like a little on the rough side. Winry hated to be reminded of her past, and the things she regretted. She just wouldn't be able to bear it to have a constant reminder like Edward had.

When she emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, it was to see Edward bent over a little, writing something down on a sheet of paper on the nightstand. She watched him continue scribbling in the notepad as she walked over to him. As he hung up the phone with whomever he'd been talking to, Ed didn't seem to notice her right behind him, since he dropped his head back on a sigh and stared up at the ceiling. He tilted his head to either side, bringing forth a few pops, and lifted his hand to his neck.

With a small frown, Winry touched his back. "Something wrong?" she asked quietly. If she was completely honest with herself, Winry had no clue how to handle Edward at the moment. She didn't know if he was going to be his sarcastic, cynical self or if he was going to be...different. Worse yet, she didn't know which one she would rather face.

It seemed as though Edward had been in his own world completely, because he jumped a bit when Winry touched him. He turned around with a slightly unreadable expression on his face before he shrugged. "That was Mustang," he said, jerking his thumb back towards the phone. "He was reminding me about the Christmas party at the station tonight."

Winry nodded a little, taking note that he was still soft spoken and not cursing about Mustang. But this was the first time she'd heard about a Christmas party. "Are we...are we going?" she asked carefully. Winry wasn't sure if he often attended the parties at his office or if he was as introverted as he claimed to be.

But Edward gave her a shrug. "Maybe. I haven't gone before." He turned and looked out of his window. "This is the first time someone's called me to remind me about the party." He sounded a little...weary. But at the same time, he also sounded a little happy that he was being included.

It made Winry wonder why no one had called him about it in the past. Was he really that much of a Scrooge around Christmas? Or was it because it was the day after his mother's anniversary? Whichever, Winry was glad that someone had called him this year. At the same time, though, she was sad, since she didn't know if Edward would accept the invitation. If he didn't, then they would just sit at the house and do whatever came to mind. If he did, then they would go and do what? Do whatever came to mind? Surely they would have things to do there.

"Do _you_ want to go?" Winry heard Edward ask her. He still wasn't looking at her. His gaze was fixed out the window.

He was asking her what she wanted to do? This was a first. The case usually went, he decided and God help anyone who said differently. Maybe the whole "facing his past" last night had stirred something in Edward, either waking part of him up or putting another part to sleep. Either way, he was a lot mellower than he had been a few days ago. Winry still wasn't quite sure what to do with him.

But _did_ she want to go to the party? She didn't know; she had never really been much of a party person, opting to stay at the sidelines if she did attend anything special or spectacular. But...that had been because she hadn't had anyone to go with, and people were a little intimidated by her to ask her to dance. This time, she would have Edward. Maybe it would be different with him?

She saw Edward shrug. "It might be nice. I don't know. I've never been much on parties, so..." he continued, but trailed off and stretched his metal arm across his chest. Winry watched him for a few moments.

"We don't have to go, then," she said softly, clasping her hands in front of her lightly. She didn't want Edward to do anything he didn't want, just for her.

But he smiled a little and shook his head. "We can go. I don't mind," he told her, bringing his other arm across to stretch it.

Winry's lips curled a little into a small smile. "I'd like that," she said softly. A small blush touched her cheeks as she turned her face down. Why did she feel so...girlish at the moment? Winry felt like a teenaged girl with the cute captain of the football team flirting with her. But, Edward wasn't really flirting with her. He was just talking to her. About going to a Christmas party together. Maybe that was what made her blush.

She was a little surprised when she suddenly felt a light grip on her chin, lifting her face once more. The blush in her cheeks deepened when she saw the smile on Ed's face. His lips were curved in the slightest. To accentuate his smile, Edward's golden eyes were soft and full of an emotion Winry couldn't quite identify. Whatever it was, it left her at a loss for words.

"Thank you," she heard Edward say quietly. Winry's eyes shut slowly from the feel of his thumb trailing from her chin to her mouth. It was rather distracting.

Before she had half a chance to ask why he was thanking her, Winry felt Edward's thumb part her lips. Immediately after, his mouth closed over hers softly. Her lips quivered beneath his, the kiss leaving her at a loss. Winry's knees buckled and gave beneath her, causing her to fall against Edward. She clutched at his shoulders to remain standing, since Winry knew Edward wouldn't make a move to help her.

One could say she was a little surprised, again, when she felt his hands on her sides. Winry prepared herself for one of Edward's rare bouts of affection until she felt a sudden distance between them. Blessedly, it wasn't so much an emotional difference as it was a physical one. Though she had to admit, she was disappointed to feel him holding her away at arms' length.

Winry strove to hold the contact between them, to not let the moment end. She held tighter to Edward's shoulders, her fingers almost digging into his skin. But he was stronger than she. Winry felt him push her away completely with a firm, but not painful grip. She couldn't even feel his breath on her face. That made Winry feel a little hurt as she opened her eyes to see a stern look on Ed's face.

"Edward," she whispered helplessly. Her mouth worked for a few more seconds, even though he was shaking his head at her.

Wordlessly, he set her down onto the edge of the bed. Edward didn't touch her after he let go of her sides. Winry blinked a few times, feeling confused. What was he doing? She watched him walk around the bed towards his desk. Winry didn't bother to look after him when he went out of view. Her mind was too busy contemplating his actions.

A few moments later, Edward came back around with the promise chest under his arm. Winry sighed and turned her gaze into her lap. The door shut a few moments later. She winced involuntarily from the ominous noise it left in her ears.

Why did he do that to her? Did he have _any_ idea what his touch, alone, made her feel? And when he did what he'd just done, given her a taste of one of the things she held as a rare, treasured gift only to leave her, did he knew how that made her feel? It made her feel cold all over, and confused. She didn't know what to do after he left her, high and dry. Part of her wanted to go after him and demand to know why he left her like he did, and the other part told her to accept it as Edward.

A little more than occasionally, mean thoughts would enter her head and often leave her unable to look at Edward for a while, for fear he would see them in her eyes and shun her. Sometimes, an upset voice in her mind would tire of him picking her up and dropping her when he pleased. That voice would rise to the occasion and fill her head with things like, "He can't maintain a normal relationship; you're wasting your time with an incompetent person like him," or "He's only using you. He said he hadn't had a girlfriend in six months; a guy is bound to need a woman companion after a while. You're convenient for him. Work and play all in one."

Often, Winry would curse herself for the thoughts and go outside to freeze the thoughts away. Those were the times she stayed out for so long, Edward would poke his head out and demand that she get back inside the house. That mad voice would tell her to ignore him and stay out, that he was only trying to use her again. But then her blessed voice of reason, the strange love she felt for him, would speak up.

It would argue with the upset voice and tell her that he really did care for her, past his job, and past the perverted male-in-need-of-woman-companionship thoughts. If he didn't, if he was only using her, he would let her stay outside in the cold and freeze. Then it would remind her that, if he _was_ using her for woman companionship, he could have taken advantage of her plenty of times in the past. And, he would let her stay outside until she was too cold to protest against him if he tried to "warm her up." That thought would make her blush and cause her to go in. He would often comment on how cold she was, set her on the couch, and put a blanket on her shoulders. Then he'd leave her be.

That was another thing that irked her. He would extend so much kindness at first then he would just ignore her. Once she was situated, he seemed to forget about her existence and lose himself in his thoughts. Thoughts of what? She was dying to demand to know what was on his mind so often, what he thought about that he couldn't share with her.

Then she would remember as she shivered on the couch that he had been through much in his life, so much he couldn't talk to her about. But she knew, now, about his past! He'd asked her to help him deal with the ghosts of his past come back to haunt him. What would stop him from sharing his thoughts with her now? What would stop _her_ from asking him?

If Winry could answer that for herself, she would rejoice and be able to possibly have a relationship with Edward.

With a sigh, the blond looked at the nightstand. She saw the paper Edward had written on while he'd been talking to Mustang earlier. Winry looked at his messy scrawl and began to decipher it. Nothing of horrible interest jumped out at her, just the time and place. But as her eyes scanned further, she paused. It was a formal event. That meant nice dresses and black ties. Winry didn't have anything nicer than sweaters and jeans, and a skirt or two.

Winry looked back down into her lap. Not only did Edward often leave her feeling cold and confused, he also left her feeling, well, sad.

It made her wonder _why_ she still loved him if he made her feel that way more often than not. The vague thought came to her that she couldn't wait for him forever.

* * *

About an hour later, Winry emerged from the room. As she hesitantly ventured towards the front of the house, she heard the two men talking in the kitchen. She turned her head before she entered and saw them at the bar, with some of the contents of the promise chest between them. Al looked up at her.

"Good morning, Winry," the younger Elric smiled at her. He held something shiny in his hands, but Winry found herself not curious and rather disinterested.

She smiled vaguely at him, but didn't look at Edward. "Morning, Al," she mumbled as she walked into the kitchen. Winry made her way to the fridge and pulled out some eggs and the soymilk.

There was a slight, awkward silence before Al spoke again. "Sleep okay?" Winry had the feeling he was implying about the promise chest and Edward looking through it last night.

But she smiled a little more, trying to be convincing, and nodded her head. "Yes, I slept fine," she said, then turned to prepare scrambled eggs. She really _had_ slept fine. It was just the waking up part that wasn't so enjoyable.

There was yet another silence, save the sound of Winry preparing her own breakfast. The silence, she felt, was more so between her and Edward than the trio altogether. That made her think of how poor Al felt, being on the outside of whatever Ed and Winry were silently fighting about. The uncomfortable stillness continued as Winry began to eat, leaning against the countertop.

The men would occasionally poke through the items, or Edward would turn a page in the scrapbook from his mother, dwelling over whatever his mother had put there. There was some mild curiosity in Winry's mind about what was in the book, but she quickly stifled it. She was upset at Edward. She wouldn't speak to him until she had cleared her thoughts a little, and could actually say something to him without needing to bite his head off.

With a sigh, Winry finished her eggs and the glass of soymilk she'd fixed earlier, and set them in the sink. She would clean up later. The blond singer turned her gaze to Alphonse, completely ignoring Edward.

"I'm going to go outside for a little while," she said softly. There was a small nod of confirmation from Al, but nothing from Edward. That was just fine with Winry. It wasn't like she was talking to him at the moment, anyway.

After a few minutes, Winry was standing outside in the snow-covered yard. The cold air was a little rough on her lungs, but not as rough as Edward was on her heart. How had she gone from wanting to be around him to being shy to being depressed in the span of maybe ten minutes? And now she was silently angry. He was such a jerk. How could he expect her to just…let go of that moment so easily? That kiss of his…however brief, it had been so soft, so…meaningful to Winry, letting her think that maybe, just maybe he might…love her. But then, just as she was readying herself for some form of passion, he pushed her away and put up some wall between them. It hurt that he could just pick her up like that then drop her, hard and fast, seconds later.

Just like that angry little voice in her head told her he would do.

Winry leaned against the post on the porch, shivering. She sighed lightly and wondered what she would do. She was upset at Edward right now, but she had come outside to try to get over it. However, she felt the only way that she could actually get over her annoyance was by spending a lot of time outside. Though Edward would probably make her go inside before she was even halfway finished brooding.

Why did he have to be such a jerk? Couldn't he see that Winry wanted to help him? The only way that she could help him was if he _let_ her. But if he kept pushing her away like he was doing now, then she'd never be able to get close enough to him.

Well, Winry told herself, she would just have to figure out a way to push back. She was determined to help Edward. God help him if the twenty-one-year old continued to think he didn't need help. He did, whether he realized it or not. And Winry would be the one to help him.

For about ten more minutes, Winry stood, devising ways to get under his skin and convince him he needed her to help him. None really jumped out at her. None, except for one. That one idea seemed the least promising, though it was still a workable idea. Why it stood out, if she didn't like it as much, Winry didn't know. If it would work, though, far be Winry to say no.

That one idea consisted of just acting casual, and not really trying. Reverse psychology. Would it really work on Edward, though? If Winry acted disinterested, would he really start to wonder why she wasn't asking him questions or anything like that? If he did begin to wonder, would he even _ask_ her why she wasn't bothering him? And if he did ask, what would Winry say? Would she continue to be casual and unbothered or would she take that small opening and try to fit into it?

There were so many questions that Winry wasn't sure of the answers. She guessed that they would just be something she answered with time.

"Winry?"

The blond was startled out of her thoughts when she heard Edward's voice from behind her. She turned around and smiled a little at him. If she was going to be casual, she couldn't be mad anymore. She wasn't upset, really, any longer. Maybe slightly annoyed with him, but that could be easily covered. So Winry wordlessly stepped up onto the porch and walked over to him. She stopped about a foot away.

Perhaps she wouldn't just be totally casual and utterly impassive. Maybe she could imply and encourage, just a little.

"Are you going to stay outside all day?" Edward asked, leaning in the doorjamb. There was something in his voice, something that made Winry realize a change in his mannerism. For better or worse, she couldn't tell, but she hoped it was for the better.

Winry shook her head. "No." Her smiled stayed intact. "I was just thinking."

Edward paused. "Ah. Okay." Silence fell between them, though it wasn't horribly awkward as it had been earlier. It just seemed a little uneasy from Edward's perspective; that was all. "Well, if you're done thinking, come inside. It's freezing out here."

A small chuckle escaped. "I'm used to it already," she told him. But she took a few steps forward and, deciding that she should imply a little, walked straight into Edward. She bent her head a little and rested her head on his shoulder, giving him no choice but to either stand there stupidly or reciprocate her action somehow. She could feel his surprise as his hands went up in a startled manner, so Winry smiled and leaned against him. In an attempt at humor, she said, "Hmm, maybe it is rather cold out there."

After a few moments, she felt Edward's hands come down around her upper back a little warily. He still seemed a little iffy about the public displays of affection with her, but at least he was trying. That was a good thing. Winry could take that and run with it, and run she would.

She stayed, leaning against him for a little while longer, just enjoying the warmth she felt in his arms. It was moments like these that Winry wouldn't mind if the world ended, or time just stopped. She was completely content to merely let Edward hold her; adjust to a form of affection towards her. Winry could really tell that he wasn't very comfortable with touch, in any way, shape, or form, be it accidental or purposeful. Sure, they had shared affection in the past, but all on his call and his whim. Those had been times he'd been comfortable with her and totally relaxed. But then, something had happened that had more or less put a wedge between them, another barrier. And, ironically, it had been right when they had broken that first one. Such was life, Winry guessed. Just when things started to go right, something else went wrong. But it was her job in life to overcome such things.

When Winry felt that perhaps Edward was feeling maybe a little awkward or possibly a little uncomfortable with her leaning on him, she stepped back and smiled at him. Well, at least he wasn't jumping away from her the moment she backed away. Edward was looking at her, if a bit confused. Well, now he knew how she felt. But Winry wasn't about to rub the feeling in his face.

"I, ah, saw on that paper, earlier," Winry said quietly, "that the party tonight is formal."

Edward seemed to think for a moment, trying to recall what she was talking about when the light bulb above his golden-blond head turned on. "Oh. Yeah. Black tie," he shrugged.

Winry nodded. "Yeah. I don't…have anything here that would be considered formal." A sheepish smile touched her mouth. Edward looked at her, silently, causing Winry to roll her eyes. She really had to spell this out for him, didn't she? "I was thinking, maybe we could go up to my house and I could find something to wear?" The sheepish smile widened. Again, Winry felt the strange, girlish shyness overcoming her. Why did she have to feel that way at random intervals?

The previously dim light bulb brightened to perhaps a sixty-watt glow. "Oh, yeah. Sure. When did you want to go?" he asked her.

"Probably as soon as possible," she told him, "because, everyone knows girls take forever to get ready for a party." Winry winked, trying her mind at some humor again. Things were so awkward between them! It was annoying! She knew that they could have the relationship Winry wanted, and if Edward could only see that, then things would be okay! But no, the man had to be a little more than dense and not want to realize the obvious.

Edward chuckled a little, seeming to loosen up a bit. "All right. Well, when you're ready, we can go." He paused when Alphonse began to talk from inside. Ed rolled his eyes at his brother and stepped inside, pulling Winry with him.

"It's freezing outside," Al said, shivering. "You guys are letting all the cold air in, and the hot air out." He gave them a mock annoyed look.

Winry blushed and ducked her head. "Sorry, Al," she apologized, shrugging her coat off. She was surprised to feel Edward take it for her.

Al smiled. "Are you guys talking about the Christmas party tonight?" he asked them, resting his hands on his mother's scrapbook.

Ed nodded. "Yeah. Were you going to come with us?" he asked, hanging Winry's coat on a coat tree.

The younger Elric shook his head, "Nah, I have work I need to catch up on. I got a couple orders a few days ago that I've been putting off. Tonight is a good opportunity to work on them."

Winry saw Edward nod at his brother. "All right. Sounds good to me." There was a pause in which the three were all completely silent, looking between each other. But Edward spoke up again. "I'm going to take Winry up to her house so she can get some stuff for the party tonight." She could tell he'd left the invitation open in case Al wanted to come with them.

But Alphonse nodded. "All right." Winry noticed a little bit of a stern, implying look on the younger man's face as he looked at his brother. "You two go on. I'm going to finish looking through Mom's scrapbook, then go check my inventory, see if I have enough materials."

There was yet another silence, causing Winry to roll her eyes a little. They were brothers! How often could they have silences? Well, quite often probably. Understood silences, at least, where one brother knew what the other meant. That made Winry sigh now. She supposed there was a lot of understanding going on between the two brothers in these silences. So she looked up at Edward.

"I'm going to go outside and wait for you," she said, reaching for her coat.

Ed nodded, for a moment seeming to think nothing of it. But then he seemed to correct his own thoughts and grabbed her shoulder. "Hang on. Take some gloves with you; you'll need them. And wait in the garage." Winry blinked at him for a few moments as he held gloves out to her. A small, but possibly cocky smile touched his face. It seemed to soften the delivery of his orders, but it also made Winry wonder what he was planning.

"Okay," she said slowly, taking the gloves. Winry shook her head, puzzled, and went out towards the garage door, muttering things like, "Crazy man," or, "Weird ideas."

Just what did he have planned, Winry asked herself as she stepped out into the garage. She looked around and saw the car, parked rather messily over on the far edge of the cluttered room. She continued to survey the mess, either guessing why they had bought one item or wondering what another item was, exactly. At the same time, she pulled on her gloves.

When her eyes fell on the motorcycle, Winry shook her head. The door opened behind her and she saw Edward walk out, warmly clad and bearing keys. She turned and continued to shake her head.

"Oh, no," Winry held her hands up. "We are not riding that thing with snow on the ground." She gave him a stern look.

Much to her annoyance, Edward grabbed one of her hands and pulled her over to the motorcycle. "Yes, we are riding it," he told her. Winry swore.

"Are you insane? There's ice on the road! If you aren't careful or watch where you're going, then you'll run over a patch and we'll crash!" She took a moment out of her scolding to rap on his shoulder. In payment for that effort, Winry drew back her knuckles quickly from his right shoulder. "Plus, you have no feeling in your right arm!" she added in an attempt to emphasize riding the motorcycle was a bad idea.

She pictured Edward rolling his eyes as he said, "That's never stopped me, Winry. Nor," he paused, stopping abruptly to turn and look down at her, "has it ever stopped you."

There were too many meanings behind what he'd just said, and Winry fell silent. He knew that's what he'd wanted, and it killed her to oblige him so easily, but she couldn't help it, or the blush tainting her cheeks. She was still contemplating his words when Edward tossed a helmet to her. Without argument, Winry put it over her head, just like she'd done a few weeks ago with Al, and Edward a few days later.

Once the helmet was secured on her head, she looked up to see Edward sitting on the motorcycle, fidgeting with the strap under his chin with a small scowl on his face. Despite her discomfort of riding a motorcycle with black ice on the road, Winry found herself smiling. That was the Edward she loved, the slightly annoying, more or less anal, but sweet-in-his-own way Edward. He'd just been going through so many changes Winry couldn't really place him. It bothered her that he kept going from affectionate to depressed to anti-social or to whatever else in the span of a few minutes, each. To see what she hoped was more than a glimpse of the Edward she recognized as the one from her front room, drying his hair in a towel from a horrid storm was hopeful.

"What are you grinning about?" she heard Edward ask as she hopped on the motorcycle behind him.

Before she answered, he cranked the engine and the loud roar filled the small garage. Winry wrapped her arms around his waist and held on as the garage door opened. "Just remembering the first day we met," she told him.

There was a little bit of the silence between the times they spoke. The motorcycle and the garage door were the only sounds until Edward spoke up. "_Now_ hold on," he told her.

Winry, not being able to hear him as he revved the engine, let go of his waist and leaned up to try to hear him better. "What?" she nearly shouted.

She vaguely saw Edward roll his eyes at her. Before she could retort, he grabbed her hands and put them around his waist securely, forcing her back down. "Now hold on," he yelled at her.

A sheepish grin crossed Winry's face. "Oh." He'd told her to hold on, and she'd done the opposite. How bright?

As Edward pulled the motorcycle out of the garage, Winry hadn't expected the amount of force that it used to take off. It nearly jerked her head back violently. As a chain reaction, Winry's grip tightened around Edward, holding her nearer to him. When the wind whipped her face like a chilly slap on her cheeks, the blond bend her head and rested the side of the helmet, which would have been her face if she hadn't had the protective item on, against Edward's back. It was a feeble attempt to keep the wind out of her face, but it was working well enough, in more ways than one.

* * *

**Just one more note to bother you all, but the next chapter will be if a little different, neither from Ed's, Al's, or Winry's POV. :) I'll leave you guys to guess from whose perspective you'll be reading from next time. Oh...and how were the Shrimp Shishkebabs Saturday night/Sunday morning?**


	25. Everybody Hurts

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, or the song "Everybody Hurts." The version I have on my computer is done by REM.**

**Author's Note: So, you guys gonna kill me? Before you do, read the chapter and then decide. Oh, btw, today is a friend's birthday. Send her happy wishes!

* * *

Chapter 25: Everybody Hurts**

A tall form leaned against a brick wall, head bent low. It might have been the chill in the air he was trying to hide from. Or there was always the possibility, especially in that side of town, that he was trying to remain unseen, or at least unrecognized. To have gone unnoticed for as long as he'd been standing there would be a feat for even this man. He was, however, excellent at keeping his identity secret until he wished it known to others. He had used it to his advantage many times to excel in his career. The ability had helped him make it thus far...yet he was still reaching just a little further.

Regardless, he was waiting for someone. He'd been waiting for quite a while now, out in the cold Christmastime air. If he didn't need that person with him before he went to his next destination, the impatient man would have left his current location minutes ago. But, she insisted upon being with him each chance she managed.

It may have worried him of her intentions if he had known her any less, or a different way. But, he knew this woman very well, and was quite acquainted with her intentions and just how far she was willing to go for them. Yes, the man thought as he gingerly fingered the hat on his head, she was not shy when it came to her opinion or intentions.

After a few more minutes of standing in the cold air, leaning against her apartment building, the man pushed away and went for the intercom. None too gently, he jammed the button for her room a few times, holding the last buzz longer than needed, only for emphasis--and his own personal enjoyment. He was more or less annoyed with how long his subordinate was taking to ready herself.

"Hawkeye, are you done yet?" he said hotly into the speaker.

There was a delay in the response. "Sir, surely you, with your unfortunately expansive knowledge of women, would know how long it takes us to dress for a formal event," came Hawkeye's words. Her voice was a little tinny sounding through the intercom system, but it took away none of her annoyance at his impatience.

Captain Roy Mustang sighed loudly and jabbed the button again. "Well, could you hurry up with the process? It's freezing out here." To further his point, though it did him no good on Hawkeye's account, he shivered loudly.

He knew she was right next to the speaker, but she took a longer amount of time to reply than he would have liked. Mustang couldn't help but assume she was mentally telling him to burn some trash to keep himself warm.

"You _could_ come up, sir; it's much warmer than outside." Though the words were suggestive, there was nothing of the like in Hawkeye's voice.

Roy mentally debated with himself. He didn't really want to go up to her apartment for no other reason than he usually felt nervous in a woman's home environment. So he had two choices at the moment: wait while he froze to death outside, or wait in Hawkeye's apartment. Once he tossed his annoying nervous thoughts away, the decision wasn't really hard to make. Being known as the Flame Alchemist, it was a given fact he'd prefer to be warm.

"I'll be up in a minute," he said on a sigh.

After Roy had already stepped into the apartment building, Hawkeye's response came out of the speaker, saying, "You make it sound like a task, Captain." There was a little humor in her voice.

A few minutes later, Roy was stepping into Hawkeye's apartment. It certainly wasn't as lavish or extravagant as his apartment, not by a long shot, but then he highly doubted that Hawkeye was prone to entertaining many guests, especially ones of the opposite sex. But that was fine. Mustang's right hand subordinate didn't need any distractions in the form of male companionship if she was as devoted to him as she swore she was.

"Would you like something to drink, sir?" Hawkeye asked as she locked her apartment door.

Mustang looked at her funnily. "Would it kill you to call me Roy, or even simply Mustang?" he asked, smirking a little.

He saw Hawkeye shrug. "I doubt it would kill me, sir," she said, walking past him.

With a shake of his head, Roy followed her towards the kitchen area of her one-room apartment. "We _are_ friends, Hawkeye. You can at least try to address me as one." The dark haired man helped himself to a glass of water.

There was a silence between them that was neither awkward nor uncomfortable. There was not a lot of "understanding" going on, either, as Roy was wondering about the strong complex Hawkeye had formed when it came to speaking to him. Before they'd started working together, she'd called him Mustang, and occasionally Roy. What had happened?

As for what he thought she was thinking of, he had no clue what was on his only woman friend's mind as she went about her apartment.

He hadn't noticed when he first came in that she was walking about, fully dressed in a long, midnight blue gown. The split in the side went up to her mid thigh, which showed off a great deal of leg. It showed off more probably than she realized, he guessed, else she likely would not have been wearing it.

As Roy continued to watch her almost aimlessly milling about the room, he decided she did know how high that split went on her. If she moved a certain way, Roy almost thought he saw a gun holster strapped to her thigh. That made him laugh quietly. The woman was always prepared.

The slightly unexpected noise made Hawkeye look at him, if a little surprised. "What are you laughing at?" she asked, self-consciously patting herself down in case something was out of place.

Roy shook his head. He set his half-drained glass of water on the counter behind him and began to cross the room. "You," he told her simply, grinning at her. "You look like you're ready to leave, yet you're still walking around like there's something you still have to do." He paused as he folded his arms across his chest. "Something wrong?"

"It's just..." Hawkeye trailed off, looking down at the floor uneasily.

He shifted his weight to one foot and put his arms at his side. "What?" If it'd been any other time and they were at the office and she was acting this way, Roy probably would have told her to ignore whatever was bothering her. But, they weren't at the office, and it wasn't any other time. They were in her apartment, and it was before the Christmas party. They were no longer bound by the title of co-workers. They were just friends now, and friends didn't let each other be sad.

Hawkeye held her silence, and Roy sighed. Since they weren't at the office, also, he couldn't order her to speak. He had to coax the information out of the woman. And if there was anything Roy Mustang knew, it was women. He blatantly ignored that the woman before him was unlike any other he'd ever met.

So he lifted his hand and touched her arm. "Riza," he said in hopes that using her first name would push along the process of finding out whatever information that was bothering her. "You can talk to me if you need to."

She sighed and shook her head. After a moment, she brushed his hand away. Roy thought that he might have seen a blush on her cheeks. That confused him a little. He didn't think he'd ever seen Hawkeye blush. "Let's go," she said, looking up at him suddenly. She seemed to have recovered from whatever had been bothering her, or at least pushed it away.

As the woman went towards the door, Roy sighed and folded his arms over his chest again. "Riza," he said again, looking up at her while she undid the locks.

"We'll be late, sir, if we don't hurry up," she said, her voice having returned to it's usual formal, rank-respectful tone.

With a sigh, Roy nodded and went out into the hallway. He let her lock the door from the outside before he went towards the stairs. There was something bothering Hawkeye, but he just couldn't say what it was. It was a little vexing that Roy couldn't figure it out, but he supposed that he had never actually spent enough time considering a woman's feelings and thoughts. He'd only been with a woman long enough to obtain what he wanted then somewhat gracefully ended things once he was bored with her.

So, Roy guessed it was his fault that he was not doing a very good job in his attempts at figuring out what could possibly be on his friend's mind.

* * *

The Christmas party was held in a ritzy hotel ballroom. It was decorated appropriately for a police station get together, complete with a bowl of spiked eggnog in a corner of the room. Some of the officers were in street clothes; others were in slightly more dressy, but casual clothing. A select few were in formal evening wear. Roy looked down at his black slacks and deep burgundy, button-up shirt. It was a little wrinkled and messily tucked into his pants, but still thought he looked pretty appealing. As he gazed around the room and saw the amounts of female eyes set on him, single and with dates alike, Roy mused that they agreed with him, as well. If only one other woman would look at him with those eyes.

The dark haired man cast his eyes around the room once more. It was elaborately decked in Christmas decorations to the point of it almost being too much. But, Roy thought to himself, it would be more trash for him to burn once the ballroom was cleaned up. So, it wasn't all horribly bad.

"Captain Mustang!" a familiar voice shouted from the other side of the ballroom. A shorter man with black, spiky hair and thick, black glasses was rushing towards Roy. Kain Fuery. "Can you help me?" he asked.

Roy shifted his weight on his feet and looked around. There were now more female eyes on him. Usually the alchemist was the hunter, and women were his prey. But tonight, the tables had turned and he felt, very much, like the hunted. All because Fuery had shouted his name.

The lionesses began to stalk their prey. Roy looked about anxiously for an escape. His eyes landed on a vaguely illuminated sign at the other end of the room. Even though it had one word on it, "Men's," it had a completely different meaning to him. To Roy, that word meant "haven."

He looked down at Hawkeye. "Excuse me," he said politely and rushed through a handful of women that would very likely ask him to dance with them at some point that night. He almost ran straight into Fuery, who was desperately pleading with him to stop and listen.

"It will only take you a minute, sir," he was saying.

Roy shook his head, his destination, his safe house, coming closer with each hurried step. He cast a glance over his shoulder and saw that the huntresses were taking pursuit for him. With a sigh, he shook his head at his subordinate. "Sorry. Emergency," he said as he pushed open the door.

It swung shut behind him with a satisfying _whoosh_ and _thud_. Roy let out a relieved sigh. Being a drop-dead gorgeous male was not an easy job, or for the faint of heart and weak of knees. He turned his face to inspect himself in the mirror. Gingerly, he reached up to adjust his tie a little as a flushing noise came to his ears. Roy's hands went immediately to his heart, his paranoia and most recent state of being pursued still in affect. But when Havoc walked into sight with his trademark cigarette clamped between his lips, Roy let out another relieved breath. "Just you," he said.

Havoc smirked a little as he washed his hands. When he finished, he reached up up to tap the ash from his cigarette into the sink. "Hey, Captain," he said, taking a drag on the stick of nicotine again, "Looking good."

A muscle under Roy's eye twitched. Havoc never dished out compliments without a reason. Whenever the blond man was overly nice, it always made people wary of his actions. A little harsh to think maybe, to immediately assume Havoc was up to something, but nine times out of eleven, he was. And it sometimes was not in the best of interest to be on the receiving end of his pranks.

So Roy looked up at Havoc expectantly. The two were long time friends and wouldn't mind if the other jumped to the punch about a suspicion. "What do you want, Havoc?" the charcoal haired man asked, still scowling a little.

Havoc shrugged innocently. "Just thought you should know, I brought a friend with me tonight," he said easily. "You might like her."

Roy turned his scowl to Havoc, directly now. "Are you trying to set me up?" he asked, annoyance in his voice. There were plenty of women out there who would have been more than willing to take that task upon their small shoulders.

In a defensive manner, the blond held up his hands. "Of course not! I just thought I'd let you know, since she's...well, she's quite an interesting person."

"How so?" Roy asked, not being able to hide his curiosity. Havoc's friends were always interesting, but sometimes, they were, well, not as interesting as others. Which was sometimes good.

Havoc seemed to stall for a few moments as he took a slow drag on his cigarette. He blew it out in a leisurely manner. Mustang blinked through the smoke. He was about to burn the rest of the cigarette for the man when Havoc finally spoke.

"She's a hypnotist," Havoc said at last.

Roy turned to walk away, but Havoc began talking again.

"I was wondering...the method she uses is a little different. Could she hypnotize you first, so everyone will see it's fine?" Havoc looked at Roy with a hopeful smile. Roy returned it with a glare.

"No," he said simply, turning to walk away again.

Before anyone else could speak, Hughes suddenly appeared in front of Roy from seemingly nowhere. Roy grabbed his heart again as though to ward off a heart attack.

"Come on, Roy," Hughes cajoled. "I'll give you a picture of my beautiful daughter to always have with you. And you can hold onto it while she hypnotizes you, so you'll think about my darling daughter!" The man reached into his jacket pocket for his inexhaustible stash of pictures.

Roy shook his head quickly. Would the attacks never cease? "No," he said again quickly, holding up his hands. there was absolutely _no reason_ for Hughes to pull out the picture, because fifty more would follow. But Hughes and Havoc, both, seemed determined to make Roy to let the woman hypnotize him. So Roy sighed.

"I'll talk to everyone," he conceded, frowning.

Hughes and Havoc looked at one another for a moment and nodded. The small look that the two exchanged suddenly seemed threatening to Roy's health. However, the other two men both started toward the door.

"Did you see the woman in the red dress?" Havoc asked either of the men. "She looks..." He made the shape of an hourglass with his hands.

Hughes shook his head. "I have eyes only for my beautiful wife," he said dreamily.

Roy rolled his eyes. He couldn't overcome the fact that Hughes was such an excellent police officer while he was so obsessed with his family. It was almost disgusting. No one who saw him on the field, gun drawn and his grimly determined look to subdue whomever he had to plastered over his face would not believe it when they saw him gush over a _photograph_ of his daughter. Or vice versa for some, those who only saw him on a friend-to-friend basis. However, Roy knew Hughes both ways, and still had troubles grasping the concept.

Havoc, on the other hand, was sometimes serious and usually, well, up to something. He was a good subordinate, however, and Roy was glad to have him on the force. Regardless, there were times that the younger man was rather...overly ambitious of something that Roy wanted to strangle the younger man.

And as the three men exited the bathroom, Roy realized _now_...was one of those times.

"Everyone! Captain Mustang has decided to test the hypnosis!" Havoc suddenly announced. The spirit of many individuals heightened.

Roy's jaw dropped. "I did not," he said almost venomously.

Hughes and Havoc turned as one to Roy. "But, back in the bathroom, you said you would." Hughes' eyes widened sadly.

Mustang scowled. "I said I'd _talk_ to them. If they're afraid of fire, why are they working with me?" He lifted one of his suddenly gloved hands and snapped, making a small amount of fire appear at the end of Havoc's cigarette and burning it. There were chuckles around the room. Havoc casually pulled out a new stick of nicotine and lit it.

Fuery walked up to Mustang, his eyes wide and sad looking. "But...but," he pleaded as moisture welled in his eyes, "Captain--"

Havoc stepped forward. "Sir," he interrupted, "your men are looking up to you, to embrace and take away their fear. You won't just let them down like this, will you?" The blond paused dramatically. "If you don't do this, sir, they may never be able to look at you the same again, always having a fear of fire."

There was a tense silence in which Mustang felt all eyes upon him. He was waiting for someone to burst into tears, shout at him, or something. When nothing happened, he decided to scan the room for any expressions of uneasiness or extremely upset people. What he saw, in the very corner of the room, was a young woman, sitting with her head bowed. Her hair, which seemed to be two different colors, brown and pink, cascaded over her face like a curtain. She was dressed slightly strangely, out of place for the event. Even though there were people in street dress to formal wear, she just looked different.

A sudden voice, a very familiar and unexpected one intruded Roy's thoughts. He turned his head to see none other than Edward Elric, looking fit as a fiddle near the entrance. Apparently, he'd just arrived with Miss Rockbell at his side. Edward was saying, "What's the matter, Captain? The Flame isn't afraid of a little bit of fire, is he?"

Roy's eye twitched a little. "Not as afraid as you will be when I'm finished with you," he threatened with a menacing glare sent Edward's way. He sighed when he felt more insisting gazes on him. He didn't want to give in, but...there were so many people bothering him about it. "Fine," he conceded at last. Relieved sighs and expressions filled the room. Roy cast an indifferent look at Edward now, who smirked knowingly. "Where is she?"

Havoc smiled triumphantly as he gestured to a corner of the room, towards the woman Roy had looked at only a few moments earlier. Coincidence? Maybe. Roy's ability to spot a pretty girl across a large room filled with people? Quite possibly. Knowing one of Havoc's friends just from her face? Most likely.

"Fine," Roy said with a reluctant sounding tone.

The woman crossed the room when Havoc motioned for her. The woman, the blond man, Roy, and Hughes found a table in a different corner of the room. A few people followed. When Roy sat down, he saw Riza across from him. Breda looked skeptical of the whole scenario, but he stood next to Fuery. The small man had a nervous expression on his face. Falman stood behind Fuery. The light haired man looked ready to pounce with a scientific explanation for something. The man would have made a great alchemist if he'd had the genes for it.

Beside those four appeared Edward and Miss Rockbell. Roy made a mental note to interrogate the younger man concerning the case on the diva. Seeing Edward's annoyed and flustered expression would be good for Roy after this frustrating incident.

Hughes stood behind Riza's chair, itching to show pictures of his daughter.

Finally, Havoc moved next to Roy, his hypnotist friend beside him.

"Captain," he began, "this is Roze. She's from Lior, and is in town visiting the orphanage."

Roy twitched. "The...orphanage?" There was a decent orphanage in Central?

Havoc nodded. "Yeah. Since things are so bad in Lior, a bunch of the children were moved here. She wanted to visit them."

The phrase almost left his mouth, but Roy held back the slightly self-condemning words. He had been about to say, "And Central is any better?" but nodded instead. He placed his hands on the table. Everyone flinched at the action. "Well," he said, looking up at Roze, "let's get this over with."

She nodded and sat down in the seat next to him. Carefully, she moved her chair so she was facing him and gestured for him to do the same. When Roze set her gaze on him, Roy felt a little nervous. Her red eyes were so piercing. Her voice, when she spoke, was very soft and soothing.

"Tell me a color that comforts you," she said softly.

Roy thought for a moment. A comforting color? "Blue?" he tried. His apartment wasn't exactly decorated in much color. Sure, his room was blue, but he didn't spend much time staring at his walls.

He saw Roze look around and nod. When she turned her gaze back to him, she was holding a small, decorative steel lighter. There was a rose etched onto the sides, and a sun on the cap. She flicked it open ignited it.

"Look at the flame," she said, her voice taking on a different tone. Her voice was a little more melodic now, flowing more than it had been before. It almost made him sleepy. "Concentrate on the flame, and the flame only."

Roy could do nothing but comply as his mind shut out the rest of the room around him. The music the live band had been playing became a dull hum. The voices around him, some curious and some not paying any mind the what was going on, were now a quiet buzz. He forgot about the people around him. All he knew was the dancing fire before him.

It was very soothing to actually look at a fire for once, rather than to create one for a destructive use. This small light was beautiful, flickering every so often when a breath of air teased it. It was very...disturbing.

As Roy began to lose himself in the fire, a memory began to set in his mind. It took hold of his consciousness, and he was lost.

* * *

_Roy could almost feel the heat from the fires on his cheeks again. Blood was caked on his hands, staining his once white gloves. The transmutation circle on the top of his hands blended in, almost impossible to see now. The sound of roaring fires increased in his ears, overcoming all other sound. As Roy's eyes shut, closing out the world around him, the flames came into sight. _

_The room around him was burning, burning out of control. There was no way he could make it stop, no way he could decrease the amount of flame surrounding him. _

_There was a cry from across the room. Roy's head whipped in that direction, searching for the source of the noise. He went carefully across the room, though it was hard to say exactly from where the cry had come. _

_Sweat trickled down his face and body, soaking his clothing and hair. The flames were so great, the flames he had created, they singed his dark locks and the blue of his uniform. _

_When Roy had run into the building, it had been an impulsive action, one he hadn't thought over for more than a second. He'd only been doing his job at first. The building was condemned, and needed to be destroyed. One way to do it was to set it to flames. The old apartment complex wouldn't hold very long against Roy Mustang's flames. _

_But when a few children had come to him and the other police officers, eyes wide in fear, Roy had known immediately something had been wrong. A child, a little girl, had still been in the building, they'd told him. That was when he had run into the soon to-be inferno, ignoring the yells of his subordinates. _

_And now Roy found himself, crossing a room that could collapse at any moment. _

_A burning beam fell in front of him. Roy jumped back quickly to avoid the flames spattering at him. He heard the scream from the little girl again, from the corner of the room. He wasn't too far. _

"Hold on!" he shouted to her, trying to be heard over the flames. "I'm coming!" Roy stopped and coughed violently. His lungs hurt so badly; the black smoke was too much on his poor insides. But still, he pressed forward, determined. He couldn't let this little girl die.

_He was almost there. The corner of the room was almost right in front of him. Just a little further, Roy told himself as he carefully stepped over a piece of burning debris. _

_The man quickly pulled his leg back from where he'd almost stepped. Looking down, he saw a hole, wreathed in flame. Through the hole, he saw at least two stories down. When he raised his gaze once more, he saw the little girl, face blackened in ash and tears streaking down her cheeks. She was huddled in the corner, wailing hoarsely. Her hand was stretched out to Roy, in desperate need of his help. _

_Roy looked at her, down at the hole, and then around him. He couldn't find an alternative way over to her. There was nothing he could use to cover the hole, and it was too wide for him to jump. He turned his gaze back to the girl, who was still screaming for help. Tears were in her big, dark eyes. She wouldn't look away. Roy couldn't look away. He stood, motionless, staring into her orbs for what felt like an eternity. Her screams filled his ears and he was unable to block them out. Each wail scratched into his memory, forever there for him to mournfully cherish for all his life. _

_But he couldn't give up on her yet. Roy inched as far as he dared towards the hole, moving as close to the girl as he could. Maybe...just maybe he could reach her. He braced himself with his hand on a hopefully sturdy beam and stretched his arm out to her. _

_"Come on, reach!" he shouted at her. "Move closer!" A strained, determined look touched Roy's face as he stretched himself more to try to reach her. The girl didn't move. She merely kept her hand out, but made no effort to go closer. Roy swore. _

_This wasn't working. The fire was slowly consuming the building whole. If they didn't make it out of there very, very soon, then they wouldn't make it out at all. The heat was making him dizzy, as was the amount of smoke in the air. He couldn't do this. _

"I can't do this," he said to himself, and hung his head. "I'm sorry." Roy looked up at the little girl sadly. She started screaming again, but for a completely different reason.

_The smell of burning hair and flesh entered Roy's nose suddenly. He'd smelled it before, but not so closely. This time, it was right in front of him, rather than yards away, or even just inside a hospital room. This time, he could see. _

_He saw the girl, as the fire licked at her. The only thought in Roy's mind was that the flames were his._

* * *

"Roy!"

A hand across the face brought the man out of his memory. He was startled at first, trying to remember where he was when it came back to him. The Christmas party, Hawkeye, the hypnotist. He lifted his hand to his head, but immediately pulled it away. There was sweat on his face.

"What happened?" he mumbled.

He heard someone begin to reply, most likely Roze, but he shook his head as it came back in flashes. The building, the fire, the children...the girl. Roy shuddered.

"Sir?" He heard Hawkeye's voice from across the table as she stood.

Roy didn't answer. He jumped up from his chair and ran out of the room, pushing past anyone who was in his way. The man didn't know where he was going. He was lost. The sea of thoughts, of memories plaguing his consciousness was too much for him to wade through to dry land.

He pushed through double doors, faintly registering the loud smack as they hit the walls. His mind was more set on that bench across the room in an empty corner. Roy made his way over there without hesitation.

He sat as far away from the groups of people as he could in the hotel lobby. His head was between his knees, shoulders shaking. He looked positively pitiful. But Roy Mustang felt worse than pitiful. He felt guilty; he felt tortured; he felt...he felt like a failure. A failure as a police officer and a failure as a man. He'd let her down. He'd let that little girl down. He hadn't been able to save her then from the flames he'd created. In a way, he had been the one to take her life, he'd been the one to trap her in that burning inferno of a building.

All for some selfish want.

Roy was startled when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to find Riza looking down at him with a slightly unreadable gaze. After a few moments of feeling her eyes upon him, Roy saw that they softened a little.

"What did you see, sir?" she asked, sitting on the bench beside him. Her voice was soothing, but in a way unlike Roze's had been. While the hypnotist's voice had been soft in a slightly eerie sort of way, Riza's voice was soft in a comforting sort of way.

With a sigh, Roy hung his head again, staring between his knees at the tile floor. The red and orange blocks reminded him of flames. Again, he saw the fire he couldn't extinguish, and the sound of the little girl's screams filled his mind. He shuddered, his hands unconsciously reaching for his head. He wanted to drown out the noise, drown out her screams so he wouldn't have to live with the memory of what he'd done, and what he couldn't do, forever.

"I saw _her_, Riza," he whispered, nails biting into his skin around his ears. "I saw the building, the flames; everything." Roy swallowed. He slowly lifted his gaze to Riza's. "I saw her eyes as she stared at me, pleading for the help I couldn't give her."

Roy looked into Riza's deep brown eyes, seeking something in the depths of color. He might have been seeking comfort, but he didn't find it. The flames found him there, somehow. The charred walls formed once again in the alchemist's mind, blazing orange licking at them and melting the paint. Roy looked away again, shivering.

He took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself, to overcome the flames again, and the horror and guilt they brought him. He'd done it once, though it had been hard; he could surely do it again. And he would.

"I can do this," he whispered to himself, trying to convince himself that he _could_ do it. There was a little place in his mind, though, that was slowly growing. It had a little voice that increased in volume as it grew. It was whispering to him, telling him that he couldn't do it, that the memory would never go away.

It was _her_ voice.

Roy covered his ears again, his nails making grooves in his scalp once more around his ears. He felt the pain the action caused, but it was nothing compared to the pain he felt for what he hadn't been able to do, years ago. It tore at him, trying to eat him alive. He felt like he was alone, trying to face this pain, this part of his past.

He was startled again when he felt a firm, but comforting embrace around his shoulders. Roy opened his eyes and looked around. He saw slender arms around him. The alchemist turned his gaze and saw Riza. A slightly confused look touched onto Roy's face as he looked at her. This was...strange.

"...Riza?" He looked at her inquisitively, but didn't try to pull out of her arms.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. "You aren't alone...Roy," she whispered to him.

* * *

A few hours later, Roy was stumbling up the stairs to his apartment with Riza's arm around his waist to support him. He was glad, not for the first time, that he was only on the second floor of his apartment building. But still, did he _really_ need her help?

"I'm fine!" he insisted as they started down the hallway. He looked down at Riza and nodded, trying to convince her to nod with him.

Riza lifted her free hand and waved it in front of her face. "No, you're not," she replied for what was probably the tenth time since they'd started. Roy was tired of hearing it.

"Let me walk on my own, and I'll show you," he slurred. "I feel great." He smirked a little.

He heard Riza sigh. "Fine, walk," she said reluctantly.

Roy grinned triumphantly at her as she took her arm from around his waist. He lifted his foot to step forward, but lost his balance. He held up his hand as he swayed to the side. "I..." he trailed off as Riza shoved her shoulder against him to hold him up.

In the process of his leaning and Riza trying to hold him up, somehow they both lost their balance again. Riza fell back against the wall with Roy leaning against her, hands on either side of her head.

There was a single, silent moment between them, in which their eyes were locked. Dark, charcoal stared into warm brown. This time, there were no flames to torment Roy. Instead, he saw his own reflection, hazed in hesitance.

Slowly, Roy took one of his hands from against the wall and moved it closer to her face. Maybe...maybe her skin was as soft as it looked.

Before he could find out, Riza lifted her hand and pushed his away. "Come on, sir," she said quietly. "You're drunk. You need to sleep it off."

He shook his head at her. "I swear to drunk I'm not God," he told her, jabbing his thumb into his chest. That made him sway a little.

She shook her head and pulled away from the wall, yanking him down the hallway. With a sigh, Roy complied and continued to walk with her to his door.

When they reached the door, he reached in his pocket for his keys and fumbled for the right one. Even in his current state, he could see the annoyed look growing on Riza's face as he barely managed to shove the key into the lock. He opened the door and stumbled in.

"Almost there," he heard Riza say from beside him. She had her arm around his waist again, leading him towards his couch. When they were at the side, she gingerly helped him down onto the cushions. Roy let his hand slide from behind her back down to his chest and was ready to pass out. But after a few moments of feeling an annoying twitch at his side, he turned onto his back.

A moment later, there was a sudden weight on his chest. Roy exhaled sharply and opened his eyes. His vision was bleary, but he managed to see Riza's face, inches from his, deep red. He heard her swallow as their eyes met.

In the same manner as before in the hallway, but with a little hesitance on his part now, Roy lifted his hand to Riza's cheek. This time, he was able to touch her skin. It was soft like silk beneath his fingers, and warm from her blush.

"Sir, I don't think--"

Roy shook his head, quieting her. "Shh." He slipped his hand back into her hair carefully so he cupped the back of her head. With the same gentleness, he pulled her head close to his. Just before their lips touched, though, Roy stopped movement, in case Riza wanted to pull away. He had never forced a woman to do anything she didn't want to do. He wasn't about to start now.

Riza didn't pull away; nor did she move any closer. Through his hazy vision, Roy could see another hesitant look in her brown eyes. He, however, took it as a good sign since she wasn't trying to move. So, he pulled her head closer to his until their lips touched.

It was a very brief touch at first, a little surprising. But once the initial shock died down, Roy engaged the kiss once more, trying to be gentle in his inebriated state. And despite his drunkenness, Roy did feel he knew what he was doing. He carefully placed his other hand at her waist, fingers gently kneading at the small of her back.

The kiss was a new experience. The thrill of kissing someone new tinged the air around them. Roy had kissed plenty of women in the past, but somehow, kissing Riza was just...different. But, it was different in a good way. He actually liked the feeling.

Carefully, and still a little hesitantly, Roy parted his lips beneath hers and traced the line of her mouth with his tongue. It was only a few moments until she responded. He felt her mouth open above his almost automatically. Almost immediately after her movement, Roy touched his tongue to hers. He shivered.

But just as the alchemist could feel the passion about to increase, Riza suddenly pulled away.

She quickly jumped to her feet. Roy opened his eyes and sat up a little. He saw her straightening her dress intently, like the balance of the world depended on it.

"Riza," he mumbled. Why had she pulled away so suddenly. Roy lifted his hand to his spinning head. He could feel the hangover already.

When Riza spoke, it was quietly, as though she was afraid to increase the volume of her voice for fear of breaking something. "You're drunk. Sleep it off," she whispered.

And with that, she was gone. Roy couldn't have said how long it took her to snatch up her coat and purse and leave, but it couldn't have been more than twenty seconds before he heard his door shut. With a groan, the dark haired man fell back onto the couch.

Before he had time to fuss at himself, unconsciousness stole him away. His problems were no more.

* * *

**Surprised? This chappy was sort of the equivalent of the "Phantom of Warehouse 13" epi...anyway, hope you enjoyed. Next, we should be back to our Ed/Win goodness, somewhat. Until then.**


	26. Fun House

**Disclaimer: Don't own FMA. No song this time. Too lazy.**

**Author's note: Had a great time writing this one. Hope you enjoy it. I promised there'd be EdxWin goodness here. A little, but not a whole lot. I kind of promised someone else, too, that there'd be action. Well, voila. Action. I'd planned this entire chapter to be fluffy, but…nah. Had a better idea. Let me know what you think. Oh, the 25th, the new Goo Goo Dolls album was released. "Let Love In" is the title. I bought it the day it came out. Booyah baby. It is flippin' sweet. Tracks 5 and 11 are so gorgeous; John's voice is beautiful. The other tracks are wonderful, too. So if you are a Goo fan, simply because you like their songs Name and Iris, I highly recommend their new album to you. It'll be a good buy.

* * *

**

**Chapter 26: Fun House**

Laughter vaguely echoed as the couple left the café. Their shadows were cast against the opposite wall as they walked along the alleyway. A few signs illuminated doorways as they headed towards the street. The signs advertised small, homey shops for those who knew their locations. The scents from coffee shops and late-night bakeries filled the small area. The two continued laughing and talking amiably as they stepped out onto the sidewalk.

"Wow," the Winry said, "I didn't know there was an Old Town Central. I thought _all_ of Central was slummy." She laughed again.

Ed nodded. "Yeah. It's actually really nice down here. Not a lot of people visit, though. They're too used to Downtown and the ritzy places." He shrugged and took her hand casually.

There was a slight pause from the woman as their fingers laced together. But she shrugged it off after a moment. "I like it here. How'd _you_ find it, Edward?"

Edward took his turn to pause. His gaze strayed to his right arm hesitantly. "Well, I had a lot of time when I was a bit younger. Plus, Mustang kept the training wheels on a lot of my assignments after...after the accident." He cleared his throat a little. "This place doesn't get a lot of bad traffic." The alchemist didn't really want to talk about his accident at the moment. He was enjoying himself too much right now.

His companion understood the meaningful, "Ahem," he'd uttered and flashed Edward a smile. "So, what's next? Home, or are we still out for a good time?" she asked, still smiling.

Winry's smile was nothing at which Edward could scoff. There was no hesitance as she flashed pearl white teeth at him. The soft color of her lipstick accented her features well. Winry was, Edward supposed, a natural beauty. Sure, there were prettier girls, but there was something about the woman beside him, something of which he couldn't quite let go.

Edward caught himself almost starting stupidly at her. He turned his face forward again. Only a second later, he saw from the corner of his eye Winry turn to look at him. A small blush touched Ed's face. Not because he'd almost been caught staring, but because he wasn't quite sure from where those thoughts about her had come. Stupid mind, running away without permission.

"Edward?" he heard Winry say.

"Um," he stalled, looking around. "We can stay out. I told Al not to expect us until late." Ed smiled a little.

There was a small silence between them for a moment. "So," Winry began slowly, "is this a date?" Her voice was a little hesitant sounding, and there was a light pink on her cheeks Edward was sure hadn't been there before.

He thought a moment. _Was_ it a date? Dates didn't equal marriage. They didn't even mean anything official! A date could be between just friends. But...did Edward want "just friends"?

"I guess," Ed mumbled after a few more thoughtful seconds. He shrugged a little. Ed wasn't sure what he wanted out of this strange relationship with Winry Rockbell.

A small shove against his shoulder brought Edward from his thoughts. He looked at Winry. She wore a grin. "You _guess_? What kind of answer is that?" she asked. Suddenly, the woman was rather comfortable with the "d" word. Maybe because she could tell Edward was uneasy with it?

But he shrugged again. "Relationships haven't been my strongest point ever, Winry." He smiled a little, despite his small blush. "At least I didn't just say no."

She nodded a little. "True. That is a step in the right direction." She flashed her smile again. "So, a good time tonight? Show me the rest of Old Town."

Just as Edward was about to reply, a new voice interrupted him. "A good time?" the male voice asked. "Come to my House and I'll tell the pretty lady how to have a good time."

Edward's eyes searched momentarily until he saw a foreign man standing in a doorway. The sign above him read, "Fun House," in big, black letters. The man beckoned them closer. Winry started towards the building front, but Edward hesitated. The man's wording, despite the name of the establishment, hadn't pleased Edward in the least. Did Winry _really_ not realize the man had just hit on her? But he didn't really have a choice as she dragged him to the door.

"A fun house, eh?" Ed looked at the man, unimpressed.

But the man remained unaffected by Edward's glare. "Yes, yes, very fun...especially with Havi around." He eyed Winry in a way Edward didn't much like.

The alchemist found himself putting both of his arms around Winry's waist possessively. "I think it might be too much fun for tonight." Edward brushed his lips on the edge of Winry's jaw as he turned his head to look up at her. "Huh, Win?" _What in the name of all that's holy am I doing?_ Edward screamed at himself. Winry was a big girl, he told himself. She could take care of herself if someone was hitting on her.

One look at her face told Ed she had no clue what the man was doing. She merely frowned a little.

"Not too much fun," Havi insisted. "Just enough." He remained unflinching under Edward's hard gaze.

Winry nodded. "See?" She turned her head to look at Ed. In the process, their lips touched for a brief moment. She blinked to recover. "Not too much fun," she murmured, her eyes flickering between his gold orbs and his mouth.

Between Winry and Havi, Edward felt he'd never heard the end of this until he gave in. "Fine," he conceded. He turned his gaze to the man. "If it's too much fun, I will hold _you_ responsible." Edward gripped the man's arm with his metal prosthetic hand just tight enough to let him know he wasn't kidding.

When the two were a little ways in the fun house and Havi was nowhere in sight, Ed gave Winry's hair a small tug. "Blondie," he muttered in her ear, then let go of her waist.

"What?" she complained. Winry frowned at him. "Your hair is blond, too." She tugged on some of his bangs.

Edward took his turn for a downward look. "My hair is _golden_ blond, thank you," he told her matter-of-factly.

Winry smirked a little at him. "Whatever. What was your point for abusing my hair?"

"That guy was hitting on you," Edward mumbled.

She gasped a little. "Really?" Ed nodded. "Oh," her face fell a little. "So that must have been why you were acting strange," she mumbled.

Edward tilted his head to one side. "I was not acting strange," he insisted, blushing a little. He hadn't been acting strange; he'd just been...well, how _had_ he been acting? Edward shrugged.

"Yes, you were. With the—" she put her arms around her waist like he had "—and the—" she lifted her hand to her jaw where he'd kissed her. "You weren't acting strange?" Winry gave him a skeptical look.

"Anyway!" Edward shook his head. "What I meant to say was was, if you had _ignored_ the man, we wouldn't be here." He frowned at the floor as they walked down the dark hallway.

There was a silence long enough to make Ed look over at Winry. There was a small, slightly upset expression on her face. Her eyes flickered over to Ed's for a moment before she spoke. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I didn't realize what he was doing, and I thought we would have fun." She shrugged a little. "Guess not."

Edward stammered out loud for a few moments. From the moment he'd seen Winry's face, his mouth had been working silently. But the dismayed, vaguely upset tone of voice Winry had carried had brought his voice back.

So Ed stepped in front of Winry and held up his hands. "I didn't mean it that way, Winry," he said, if a little annoyed. Why did she have to jump the gun on him like that? He really hadn't meant it like that. "I'm sure this place is great, Winry. I just…" he trailed off in thought. He didn't want to blame the sudden almost-foul mood on the accident, because that honestly was not the reason. Ed had actually been enjoying himself. It had been after the run-in with the fun house guy that Edward had slipped.

Had he…had he been jealous? Or worse; had he been over-possessive of Winry?

"Just what?" he heard Winry ask at last. He remained silent, long enough for her to speak again. "Edward?"

He shook his head a little. After a moment, Ed took Winry's hand in his again. "Never mind," he said, smiling. With that, he turned around and pulled Winry with him, deeper into the fun house.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, the couple was close to the end. It wasn't a big fun house, and they probably could have been done looking through it and on their way home or somewhere else, but both had become sidetracked easily by many of the attractions and different rooms. They were currently in a room filled with mirrors.

It wasn't quite circular. There was an arc in the room, and another wall in the middle that jutted out halfway to the other wall, sectioning off the room. Edward and Winry had gone around the room about four times already, searching for the door to the next room. Each time, they'd found the door to the previous room, but not to the next one. Ed had, not quite jokingly, threatened a few times to use his alchemy to find the exit door. Of course, Winry had grabbed him and said they'd find it eventually.

"One more time around," Winry laughed, holding Ed's arms against his sides. "Just one more time, and if we don't find it, you can use your alchemy, Ed."

He frowned a little. "Fine," he mumbled and lowered his head. The two began walking against the mirrors once more, feeling around for the door. Edward laughed a little now and cast a glance over at Winry. "I'd hate to be the one who cleans these mirrors," he joked.

They laughed together for a moment. "Yeah, if people get as lost in here as we are, then they must look bad at the end of the day." Winry smiled. A moment later, she gasped. "Oh! I think I found it!" she exclaimed.

"Really?" Edward sounded genuinely excited. "Let me see." He reached towards her hand. Indeed, he felt a door handle behind the mirror. His gaze turned to Winry again as he smiled. "I could kiss you," he said. Then the blushed when he realized what he'd said. But he shrugged it off and told himself to forget it.

Just as he was reaching for the door handle, Ed saw it suddenly swing open. A bright light nearly blinded him when his gaze shot that way. He pulled away from the door so quickly, he almost bumped into Winry. She still stumbled back in surprise, however. His arm shot out to catch her, but Ed's gaze still stayed on the door. All he could see was the bright light and a dark silhouette. The alchemist lifted his free hand to shield his eyes.

"Congratulations," a slightly familiar voice said slowly.

Edward squinted a little to see. After a moment, he suddenly felt the need to move back. So he pulled Winry behind him, away from the figure. It continued to speak when Ed stopped a few feet away.

"You two finally found the way out. I was beginning to think that I'd have to come find you." Ed wasn't sure if the voice was one he was supposed to recognize, but he did, if only a little.

"Who are you?" Ed asked at last. He lowered his hand a little, but pushed Winry behind him more. There was just something about the voice and figure that made Edward uneasy.

But after a moment or two longer, the figure stepped closer, and its face came into better view. "Havi," he said. "I was…concerned, so I came after you two."

Edward nodded slowly. "Right. Well, we're fine. Are we almost finished?" he asked.

Havi stepped forward into the room to inspect the mirrors. A slightly dismayed look touched his face. "You're almost out," he said distractedly. "Just…one more room, and you'll be finished."

"Ed, my hand," he heard Winry say from behind him.

Ed loosened his grip on Winry's hand. He turned his gaze to the room beyond, but only for a moment before he looked back at Havi. "We'll be going now, then. We should be getting home; it's late." With that, Edward pulled Winry in front of him so she could leave first. He kept his head turned in the slightest to check for any movement from Havi.

As he was just about to cross the threshold to the next room, Winry turned around and began to speak. "What was that—Ed, look out!"

The moment he'd seen the sudden fear in Winry's eyes, Ed had clapped his hands, triggering his alchemy. He dragged his flesh hand over his metal arm. By the time she'd been able to shout at him, his prosthetic was on its way to becoming a blade. He quickly turned to see Havi advancing at him, about to bring down a knife on Ed.

The alchemist held up his metal arm against Havi. They stood still for a moment, both probably recovering from the shock the first strike sent through them. But did didn't take Ed long to fight back. He used his left elbow against the man's stomach, causing him to double over. A moment later, Ed punched in an upward motion into Havi's chin. Havi went flying backwards.

But Edward didn't let his guard down, and for good reason. Havi quickly recovered, but turned his stumbling backwards into aerial acrobatics. When he landed, it was as a completely different shape and figure entirely, one Edward recognized immediately.

Long, greenish-black hair in the style of dreadlocks hung past the creature's waist. Tight clothing, probably leather, clung to flat, off-white flesh. Purple eyes gazed at Edward.

"You," he growled. "What did they call you then?" Ed took on an offensive fighting stance, ready for anything. As a second thought, he tossed over his shoulder to Winry. "Stay back." He couldn't tell her to get help—others could have been waiting for that.

The feminine-looking figure laughed. "It's been such a long time; I'm flattered you remembered me." The thing – Ed wasn't sure if it was a man or a woman – lifted a slender hand to its collar bone. "Envy, that's what they called me."

"Right," Ed nodded. "What do you want with Miss Rockbell?" Ed knew if he called Winry by her first name, then whoever this joker was would realize that she meant more to him than just a nice payment.

But if it really had been Havi, the one who had hit on Winry and convinced them to go in the fun house, then it would have seen how…protective of her in that situation. Ed sighed. All he could do was hope, despite the feeling that this had been a trap from the beginning. That would mean to Edward that his perception was dulling. But he was sure that it wasn't, though. What was it, then?

As Envy began to speak, Ed also heard Winry's frightened breathing from behind him. Could it have been because _she_ was with him? Ed's attention switched from that to Envy when he heard the womanly voice. "Who said I wanted her?"

Edward hardly had time to response or even process what Envy had said before the alchemist was holding his right arm up to ward off another aerial attack. Envy almost repeated the earlier action of acrobatics, but didn't land as far away. It lunged at Edward again, causing the blond to think very quickly to defend himself. Ed felt his feet moving beneath him as he tried to stay up. His opponent's entire weight was leaning against him, pushing Ed back. It was only a moment until he felt something hard against his back. A shattering noise stung his ears and Edward winced when he felt a bit of pain in his back.

After Ed recovered from that, he saw Envy leaning close. "I don't want the girl." Edward saw the almost crimson colored lips moving slowly just in front of his eyes. "_They_ might want her. I want something more, though." Envy's lips curled into a sneer, maniacal laughter escaping him for a moment before Edward found it in himself to fight back.

He shoved Envy away and immediately slashed at him with his blade. Envy slid away and bent to pick up the knife. The battle of blades continued for a few more minutes, and neither gained the upper hand. Edward, however, hoped he could at least gain a small advantage or possibly land a hit, just to say he was even or doing better than Envy. But the moment that thought formulated in his mind, it was quickly beaten out by a blow to his head. Ed took a step back and grabbed his head, which felt like it was trying to spin off of his shoulders. Once his vision cleared from that, he saw Envy across from him, smirking still.

"You're so short for your age; it took me a while to calculate where your head would be in regards to my foot."

Ed glared. _No one_ talked about his height like that, except Mustang. "Shut up!" he yelled and took the offensive as he charged towards Envy.

He'd been hoping to gain that advantage by attacking when his opponent was off guard, or at least not expecting it. But all his effort granted him was another blow to the head, followed by a not so nice feeling fist against his jaw. Edward swore as he fell back and onto the floor. He touched his jaw gingerly. His mouth filled with blood from his lip, which he'd probably bitten when Envy had punched him. Ed grumbled and jumped to his feet again. He was determined to not give up so easily. So he swore once more and ran at his opponent.

"So stubborn," Envy said in what could only be described as a strangely seductive voice. Envy dodged a swing from Ed's blade-arm. "Surprising, most definitely, for someone your height."

Ed swore and swung his arm down from above. "Shut up!" he yelled again as Envy jumped out of the way.

But suddenly, and completely unexpectedly, Edward felt a searing pain in his left arm. He hopped away from Envy and covered the part on his arm where he felt pain. When he drew his hand away, blood coated his prosthetic hand. Ed looked up just in time to see Envy's fist before it came in hard contact with his jaw again. A few more blows like that finally sent Ed to the floor again.

Before he had a chance to get up or even move, he felt a foot in his gut and chest repeatedly for what felt like an eternity. It was hard to breathe, if that was even a word in his vocabulary at the moment. Ed was beginning to feel dizzy and light-headed from the lack of oxygen to his brain when the kicks suddenly stopped. Ed managed, but just barely, to turn his head a little. He flinched when he heard a loud thump. Envy's body lay on the ground a few feet away. Ed flinched again when he felt a hand on his arm, just below his cut.

"It's okay, Ed," he heard a soft but shaky voice say. He turned his head again and saw Winry's face above him. She wore a concerned expression on her features, but still looked afraid. There was another emotion on her face, one Edward hadn't seen on someone in a long time. "Can you move?"

Edward took a moment before he replied or even tried to move so he could regain himself and at least a little breath. He groaned in pain when he tried to sit up, though he felt Winry's hands on his shoulders to help him up. Ed coughed into his hand from the pain. Blood tainted his fingers; he wasn't sure if it was just from when he'd bitten his lip, the numerous punches from Envy, or if those kicks had seriously upset his insides. It was probably a combination of all of them, though.

"Come on, I'll help you," Winry was saying, trying to pull Ed to his feet. She sounded desperate to get out of there.

But Ed shook his head, pulling his arm away. "What happened?" he asked hoarsely, choking on a little blood.

Winry paused. "I shot him," she mumbled.

Ed looked at her incredulously. "You _what_? With whose gun?" he nearly shouted as he gingerly made his way to his feet.

She looked sheepish again. "Yours! It fell out of your pocket when he shoved you against the mirror, okay! I wanted…I…I couldn't just watch him hurt you, Ed." Winry chewed her lip. She looked like she wanted to say something else, but looked so suddenly overcome with emotion.

Edward looked at Winry, over at Envy, then back to Winry once more. Envy was down for the count with a bullet to the head. Ed sighed painfully and took Winry into his arms. She was shaking. It didn't take long for him to feel hot tears against his shoulder. He made soft shushing noises to her. "Let's go," Ed mumbled. She didn't need to be there anymore.

When they managed to make it to the sidewalk, the roles had very much switched. Winry was holding him up as he couldn't walk from the pain.

"Just hang on, Ed," she murmured to him as she flagged down a cab with one hand. "We'll get you to a hospital soon."

He choked on a scoff. "My favorite place," he muttered and spat out some blood. It colored the snow red, tainting it.

A few moments later, a cab driver was hopping out of his car and over to the couple, surprised.

"What happened to him?" the man asked, opening the door. At least, Edward mused, the man wasn't so overcome with curiosity he'd forgotten his job.

Ed saw Winry shake her head. "He was in a fight; what do you think?" she replied almost heatedly. She helped Edward into the back seat of the cab, then slid in beside him. He could feel her worried eyes boring into him.

"Which hospital, lady?" the driver asked as he began to speed off.

There was a silence from Winry as she hesitated. Edward choked at first when he tried to speak, but coughed out more blood onto his coat sleeve. "Central General," he barely managed.

Immediately after his efforts to speak, he felt as the car shifted on a hard left turn. Ed was so very glad that they hadn't found an obnoxious cab driver. Ed would have preferred to walk the distance to the hospital than have to listen to a rude driver.

A few moments later, he felt Winry's hand on his shoulder. He turned his hazy gaze to her. "You're going to be okay, Edward," she told him.

For some reason, her voice sounded distant. The light that had been bright a moment ago didn't seem that way anymore against Winry's face. In fact everything seemed a little dull to him, even the hum of the car and the vibrations sent through the floorboards. Ed could feel his eyes drooping more and more every moment. He could vaguely hear Winry's voice directed at him, but he could only just barely understand her.

After a few moments, Ed forced his eyes open and lifted his hand to her chin. "Hush," he mumbled. "You said I'd be fine."

The moment after those words left his mouth, his consciousness slipped away as well.

* * *

It was some time later when Edward's eyes opened slowly. As he came back to himself, he felt like he was flying. His head was dizzy and spinning out of control, and his body felt very light. He groaned a little and went to turn on his side, away from the annoying light in his eyes. He'd probably just passed out on the couch after the party at the station and not turned off the light in the living room.

But as he began to turn, he paused. Had he left the TV on, too? What was that beeping noise he was hearing?

Edward sat up quickly. His head began to spin with a vengeance. He lifted his hands to grab his head, but instead found himself doubling over and covering his mouth. He began coughing into his hands. After a moment, he gagged and coughed one last time. Ed drew his hands away and found them coated in blood. He swore quietly and rubbed his hands on his blanket, staining the white sheet.

Wait, white sheet? Since when did he cover with a white sheet on his couch? And since when did he cover with _anything_ on his couch?

Suddenly, it came back to him in a flash; the fun house, the fight, Envy, and that polite cab driver. And Winry.

Very slowly, Edward lifted his head and looked around. He saw a wall directly in front of him, shining stark white. To his right side was a curtain, separating him from other patients. To his left were a door and a window. Directly outside of them was a nurse's station. A few women in scrubs were sitting behind the desk, talking probably, or watching a small TV. Another woman walked past the window, holding a chart in front of her. She turned toward his door and walked in. When she looked up from the file, a surprised look touched her face.

"Good," she said, smiling, "you're awake. How are you feeling?"

Edward scowled. "Why do I always get stuck with you?" he asked. Each time he visited the hospital, for either himself or Al, he had the same nurse. Nurse Clara was also the main nurse he'd had after the accident. Coincidence? He thought not. Conspiracy? Most likely.

But she shrugged. "I don't know. Your brother called your phone a little while ago. Your lady friend had it in the waiting room and took the call outside."

Quickly discarding his grumbles, Ed looked at Clara. "Winry? She's still here?" he asked, a little surprised. He hadn't expected Winry to stick around for so long. It was two in the morning, or so the clock told him.

Clara nodded as she checked Ed's blood pressure. "Of course," she said. "She's asked quite a few times if she could come see you. But I remembered how you were about visitors when you slept." She recorded the numbers in the file. "She's very pretty. Let me see your arm."

Edward sighed. He looked down at both of his arms, right then left. He was gauze wrapped around his flesh, just below his shoulder. That's right, he'd been cut. "So, when can I leave?" he asked, quickly changing the subject from Winry. "I'd like to spend the remainder of the night in my own bed if that's okay with the almighty doctor and Nurse Clara."

He saw Clara shrug as she unwrapped his arm. Ugly, dark stitches came into view. "I don't know. It's up to the 'almighty doctor.' You were bleeding internally. If it was just your arm and those scratches on your back, you'd be gone already with some pain medication. But since it isn't, we have to monitor you to see if your body will absorb the blood, or if a blood vessel was ruptured. What were you doing, anyway?"

Ed sighed. So nosy, these nurses. "None of your business. What if it's a ruptured vessel?" he asked, wincing when Clara inspected his stitches too closely for his liking.

"Surgery. Must have been dangerous," she commented off-handedly.

With a shocked expression and annoyed growl at the same time, Ed pulled his arm away and swore. "None of your business, woman!" he reiterated. "And what do you mean, 'surgery'? Can't it just heal on its own?"

Clara shook her head as she turned to check his vitals on the machine and the slow morphine drip. "Touchy," she mumbled. "And just like I said; surgery. If you keep coughing up blood, we put you to sleep, cut you open, fix whatever is wrong, and then sew you back up. Surgery."

Ed swore again. "Where's Winry?" he grumbled. "In fact, where's my doctor? I'm fi—"

What Edward had meant to say was "fine," but a bout of coughing cut him off. He continued to cough, even after blood colored his hands again. Once he finished, though, a rag was thrust at him.

"Thanks," he muttered darkly and took the rag. Ed wiped away the blood on his hands and around his mouth.

When he looked up at Clara again, she had a sympathetic smile aimed at him. "I'll go get your friend," she said. Before she left, though, Clara placed her hand on his head momentarily.

Edward swatted at her hand, wearing a scowl. He turned his gaze to the foot of his bed when Clara left the room. Why was Winry still there? She should have gone home – it was too dangerous for her to still be out, even though it was a hospital. When people were after her life, nowhere was safe.

But was her life _really_ what they were after? Earlier, Envy had said that he wasn't after Winry. He'd also said that the others may have been after her, but Envy was after something more. Edward could only wonder what that "more" was. But, he'd never know, now. Winry had shot him between the eyes; no one could walk away from that unless they weren't human.

Ed sighed. He would have so much fun reporting to Mustang about this. The young alchemist began to plan it out already. 'Gee, sir! We wanted to enjoy the night out, so we went to a fun house. The guy started to hit on Winry, and I got jealous and possessive. But a funny thing happened: it turned out to be one of the bad guys! And he beat me up! Imagine that. So, Winry had to save me and shoot him while I was on the ground about to pass out!'

Ed sneered at the wall. He could only imagine and hope he wouldn't hear Mustang's response. 'Way to go, Ed! Way to let the woman you're being paid to protect, protect you!'

Yes, wonderful. Edward grumbled and fell back against his pillow. He coughed a little, but no blood accompanied it, thankfully. His eyes felt droopy again, and his body felt heavy. But before he could really fall asleep, Edward felt something on his forehead. He opened his eyes again, wondering when they'd shut. Blinking through slightly clouded vision, Edward managed to see a concerned face gazing down at him.

"Edward," he heard Winry whisper to him. After a few moments, he registered it was her hand brushing his hair out of his face slowly. He actually liked the feeling.

He began to smile slightly, but stopped when he felt it pulling on his mouth where his lip was split. "Hey," he mumbled, coughing a little. "Told you I'd be fine."

She nodded with an incredulous expression on her face. "Yeah, after you passed out and gave me a heart attack," she groused. A small but playful scowl touched her features. "That was mean."

"Sorry," Ed began, "but it was kind of hard for me to control my consciousness when I bled all over myself." He shrugged a little.

Winry's expression softened a little a moment later. "I know." She sighed and leaned her forehead against his. "I'm just glad you're all right now," she whispered.

Edward couldn't help the little bit of a smile that his lips allowed. "Yeah," he agreed quietly. He was glad he was all right, too. It wouldn't have been fun if something worse had happened. A sigh escaped him.

He was about to complain again when he heard Winry's soft voice still close to him. "Just go to sleep, Edward," she murmured to him. He felt her push his hair away from his forehead again before she pressed a kiss on his skin. "You'll feel better when you wake up."

* * *

**Just something I wanna share with everyone…my brother is getting married in like…just a couple weeks. Yeah, and his bride-to-be is only 11 months older than I am. Strange-ish. But oh well.**


	27. I Was A Prayer

**Disclaimer: Don't own FMA, nor "I Was A Prayer," which is written and performed by Alkaline Trio.**

Author's note: Ahem. I was depressed. That's my reason for the intermission. Don't like it? Deal with it. At least this was finished and updated. Y'all better enjoy it.

* * *

Chapter 27: I Was A Prayer

"_Edward," he heard Winry whisper to him. After a few moments, he registered it was her hand brushing his hair out of his face slowly. He actually liked the feeling._

_He began to smile slightly, but stopped when he felt it pulling on his mouth where his lip was split. "Hey," he mumbled, coughing a little. "Told you I'd be fine."_

_She nodded with an incredulous expression on her face. "Yeah, after you passed out and gave me a heart attack," she groused. A small but playful scowl touched her features. "That was mean."_

"_Sorry," Ed began, "but it was kind of hard for me to control my consciousness when I bled all over myself." He shrugged a little._

_Winry's expression softened a little a moment later. "I know." She sighed and leaned her forehead against his. "I'm just glad you're all right now," she whispered._

_Edward couldn't help the little bit of a smile that his lips allowed. "Yeah," he agreed quietly. He was glad he was all right, too. It wouldn't have been fun if something worse had happened. A sigh escaped him._

_He was about to complain again when he heard Winry's soft voice still close to him. "Just go to sleep, Edward," she murmured to him. He felt her push his hair away from his forehead again before she pressed a kiss on his skin. "You'll feel better when you wake up."

* * *

_

The next morning, Edward woke in absolute pain. He cringed the moment his body registered the aching in his stomach, arm, and chest. His jaw was a little sore, too, but is wasn't as extreme as the others. Annoyed muttering escaped him as he opened his eyes. _Feel better, yeah, right_, he thought. At the bottom of his field of vision, he saw a blond head on the edge of his hospital bed. Ed laughed quietly. She was still there.

He couldn't say why it amazed him; it just did. Maybe because hardly anyone had ever stuck by him when he'd needed it? Besides Al and Mustang, at least. Each time Edward was hospitalized or just generally having a bad time with life, if he happened to have a girlfriend, she would split in nothing flat. It just seemed strange to Edward to have a female stay by him for so long.

Sure, he was her bodyguard, so they really couldn't be separated. She could have requested a switch, though, if she wanted a different person, someone who wasn't as danger prone as Edward; simple as that. But she hadn't. Ed didn't know if he should be grateful for that, or scared.

He sighed a little and looked around. Thinking about his relationships made him depressed, since the only successful ones, for a time, had ended without grace, and very harshly on Edward. He wanted to think of something different, something constructive. So he turned his head in both directions, feeling a little sore in his neck, until he saw a notepad on the night table beside him. Edward ignored his pain, since he had been through much worse, and reached for the paper. He figured that it was for terminally ill patients, or just the hypocondriact patients who figured they were dying when they had a cold, so they could write out a will. A pen was hooked to the top of it. But why it was in _recovery_, he couldn't say.

Edward sighed quietly and tried to sit up. He found the buttons on the edge of the plastic guard that moved the bed up and down, and managed to raise himself to a sitting position. It caused more pain to erupt in his stomach, but again, he made himself ignore it. Painkillers didn't do anything for him anymore. They sometimes made it worse.

Carefully, Edward began to write what he knew so far about Winry's case. He needed to get this finished up _soon_. He needed to stop procrastinating and get it over with. So he wrote the words "Confirmed Suspects" on one side of the page, and then listed Primus/Envy and Quintus. Those were the only two confirmed people he could really tell at the moment. In another collumn, he wrote "Possible Suspects," and scribbled Secudus' name, remembering the night a few weeks ago at the man's restaurant. Edward still had to contact him about that, though if Secundus really _was_ part of it, it could bode badly for Ed. He quickly wrote "_be careful_" beside the name. He also wrote Quartarius' name, since he was usually with Quintus. That didn't automatically make Quartarius a suspect, but he couldn't call him out just because of no evidence against him. If anything, he would be guilty by association.

Connections...how were they connected? What was some evidence Edward had found? Under "connections," he wrote "tattoo" and sketched what he remembered Secundus' and Quintus' tattoos to look like, and the same emblem that had been on that spider. Ed didn't remember seeing it on Primus, but it could have been in an...obscure place.

Beneath "evidence," Edward wrote "spider," and "recorded calls." There was that one call before Primus and Quintus he had screened on his own, and there were a few others more recently recorded on the tapped lines.

Edward tapped the pen on the paper, thinking. What else was there? Many strange occurrences had happened since Edward had met Winry, some that he would have read in a science fiction novel. One of those things was seeing Primus shapeshift. That had just not been human. Another thing had been whatever Winry had seen in the motel. He made a note about that, but wasn't sure if it was related.

Another sigh escaped that irritated his ribs, which he figured were possibly cracked. What was a motive? For something to be this complicated that Edward had barely figured anything out, it couldn't be so trivial as money. Why would someone want Winry dead? She was too nice of a woman to purposely make enemies, so grudges were out of the question, unless they were accidental. He still wrote it down, though, because it would be stupid to rule anything out unless he was one-hundred percent sure, and he never was. He wrote down money, too, in that case, but put small X's beside them.

There was nothing that came to mind why someone would want to kill Winry. That led him to think that she might not be the actual target. But then who? Or what?

Edward mumbled to himself and shifted. His butt was going numb against the sheets since he had been sitting and lying down for so long. He let his mind go back to the previous night, replaying the events. It had definitely been Primus/Envy, whichever the shapeshifter preferred to be called. Something about the fight, and the few things Envy had said just hadn't seemed right. What was it he'd said?

Edward had asked what they wanted with Winry...Envy had replied that, in specific, _he_ didn't want her, but something more. A smirk carefully splayed on Ed's mouth, but he was wary of the split in his lip. He wrote a note about different ulterior motive beside Primus/Envy. Then he wrote "more suspects to come" beneath Quartarius' name. There were definitely going to be more people added to the list, Ed was sure of that.

He continued to smirk, though, because Envy had given Edward a good piece of information. He wrote down what he remembered his opponent saying. That could mean that Envy wasn't tied down, one-hundred percent to whomever he was working with, but it also meant that there was a small possibility that they _weren't_ after Winry. He _had_ said that the others "might" be after Winry, not "were" after her. That meant that the possibility of said "others" were after her, but it wasn't definite.

But it was a small hunch, just a guess and a hope. That left Edward wondering why they were targeting Winry, if she was not what they wanted. Why had those notes started coming in to her?

Upon remembering the notes, Edward wrote them down under evidence.

What did all of this mean?

Edward yawned and pushed the "Call" button for the nurse. He was in a mood for causing trouble; being stuck in a hospital always made him feel that way. He scribbled a few additional notes on his paper until a woman came in a few minutes later, looking if a little startled to be receiving a call this early. She was very young and probably new. Perfect. Ed needed a good distraction, and a fresh nurse would be great for it.

"Do you need anything?" she asked, pushing fine black hair behind her ear. She looked especially nervous. Maybe other nurses had warned her about him?

But Ed smirked inwardly. "Yeah, where's my doctor? I want to talk to him about getting these tubes out of my arm," he said, gesturing with his metal arm to the IV lines in the inside of his elbow. "They're annoying and keeping me from doing my work."

There was a small pause as the woman seemed to jog her memory. "Um, who is your doctor?" she asked in a quiet, timid voice.

Edward almost snorted. She must have _just_ started working. She had no clue who his doctor was. Well, that was one thing in common; neither did Edward. "I don't know," he said slowly, "since I haven't seen him yet." He glared at the nurse a little then sighed.

The nurse seemed to be very flustered as she pulled pieces of paper out of her chart, probably checking for his doctor. "I'm sorry, Mr. Elric--" Edward snorted...'Mr. Elric' "--I can't seem to find your chart."

He made the quiet observation she was holding a chart that had someone else's name on it. He gave a long suffering sigh. "Maybe because that isn't _my_ chart?" he pointed out at last.

Before anyone else could speak, a new voice entered the conversation. "Harassing nurses so early in the morning, Edward?" Clara entered the room, holding a chart or two close to her. At least _one_ had to be his, but he was also curious as to whom the other would belong. It wasn't like Clara to carry more than one chart with her, due to the patient confidentiality. "Quite a conquest."

Edward looked over at Clara and he could immediately tell the younger nurse was relieved to have the line of fire change. He rolled his eyes inwardly. Such weak constitutions they had. "What did my doctor say?" he asked heatedly. From the bottom of his field of vision, he saw Winry stirring from slumber. Maybe he'd been too loud if she was waking.

His attention was directed back to Clara when she began speaking. "I spoke with him this morning," she said as she moved to check his vitals. "Are you sore anywhere?" she asked.

This time, he outwardly rolled his eyes. "Of course," he retorted, snorting incredulously. "I was in a fight. Why wouldn't I be sore?"

Clara smirked at him. "Take note, Marian, that patients like Mr. Elric here, are usually all talk, so just ignore their backtalk and barbs." She winked at the other nurse before looking back to Edward. "Where do you hurt the most?"

With a sigh, Edward held up his metal hand, as it hurt to move his flesh arm. "Everywhere." Winry finally woke and looked up at him, apparently a little surprised to see so many people in the room already. She sat up quickly and yawned. "To make a list of where I _wasn't_ hurting would probably be..." he paused for a moment, looking for a word other than 'shorter' or 'smaller.' "...less," he finished. He saw Winry frown at him, though, for his remark being so obstinate.

Clara still seemed undaunted, though. "We're going to take you to have some X-rays done. Can you comply long enough with the technicians not to scare them?" she asked in a bored manner.

Ed shrugged. "Are they going to poke me--ow!" He glared at Clara when she did just that, pressing two fingers against his side.

"Definitely in need of X-rays," she said to herself. Then she added to him, "Unless I tell them otherwise, all they'll do is take pictures of your bones." Her gaze switched up to Marian. "Could you find some techs and someone to wheel Mr. Elric down to the X-ray room?" Clara had hardly finished before the younger nurse retreated, obviously relieved to be able to leave.

Ed frowned fiercely. "I don't need any--ow! Stop poking me!" He swore quietly and pushed the nurse's hand away.

With a sigh, he looked around the room when Clara left. His eyes fell onto Winry. She was frowning, as well, in an annoyed manner. "Ed, why do you have to be so stubborn?" she asked, voice still a little heavy with sleep. She lifted a slender hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. That was something she had been doing lately.

"I don't need any X-rays. If they absolutely insist I have one, I can walk to the room on my own." He looked defiantly at Winry, folding his arms over his chest gingerly. His ribs were throbbing, but he wasn't about to admit that to anyone else.

"Edward, it's Christmas Eve. Why can't you try not to act like a Scrooge? Unless you take pride in letting people think you're a jerk who doesn't care about anyone, _or_ yourself, even." She glared at him a little, standing.

But Ed remained undaunted by her harsh words. "It works for me, okay? Look, I don't like playing this card a lot, but I've been through a lot, and you know it. It all happened around this time of the year. I _don't _need to hear the 'be nice; it's Christmas'; speech from yo--"

"Yes, Edward, you do," Winry interrupted. "You do. You also need to realize the world doesn't revolve around all things _Edward Elric_! Why you believe that, I don't know. I mean, you've been through _so much_, you have to have noticed that at least a little, by now, that things don't always go according to _your_ plan."

Edward was silent for a moment, trembling in anger, before he spoke finally. "Don't mock me," he said in a frighteningly calm tone of voice. "Especially about this." His eyes were cold as he pointed a dark expression towards her. But he forced that fury down and away for the moment. "What is with you this morning, anyway?" he asked, venting a little annoyance. Since she'd woken up, he had felt nothing but bad vibes from her. Something was eating her. And from the look on her face, he was about to find out.

"Waking up to hearing you complaining and being a jerk to people who are _trying_ to help you might have something to do with the situation, Edward. Why don't you try agreeing with people for once; you receive much nicer responses. It's pretty ironic, actually!" And with those last words, Winry turned and ran out of the room.

With a dark frown on his face, Edward saw her bump into someone on her way out. When Ed saw that "someone," he swore. "You too? Someone must not love me," he grumbled.

Roy Mustang chuckled a little. "It would look bad if I didn't show up to wish you a speedy recovery," he said. He held out a bouquet of flowers.

Ed eyed them for a moment suspiciously. "Aw, thanks, Mustang; you shouldn't have," he said sarcastically, still annoyed about what Winry had told him.

"I didn't." Roy rolled his eyes. "Hawkeye sent them; where do you want them to go?" he asked, looking around.

Still grumbling, Edward settled back against the hospital bed again, but winced from the pain that brought about. "Some nurse will come in soon to take me away; give 'em to her." He sighed carefully. He sincerely hoped he didn't have broken ribs. Alphonse was pretty much healed from the gunshot to his collar bone, but not completely. It wouldn't be fun having the two of them incapacitated from the pain. Hopefully Edward was just sore.

"They've finally had sense knocked into them and they're putting you in a mental health institute?" Roy looked impressed. "It took them long enough to figure out that's where you belong," the older man chuckled. Edward, being in a foul mood, swore at Mustang, folding his arms over his chest again gingerly. Roy's brow disappeared under his messy black hair. "I'll pretend to ignore that, since we're off duty," he said, placing the flowers on the table at the end of the bed.

After grumbling a little, Edward shut his eyes. Even though morphine did nothing for the pain, it still made him feel high. "I'm hoping you didn't come just to piss me off, and there was an actual reason?" he asked, opening his eyes again to look at his boss. He seemed a little preoccupied, but came back to reality after a moment.

It was then that Edward saw how tired the older man looked. There were dark circles under his eyes, and said charcoal eyes looked exhausted, like he hadn't slept well at all the previous night. There was a small silence between the men, in which Edward could sense the stress and tension radiating from Roy. What had happened to him after the party?

Before Ed could ask, though, Roy sat down in one of the chairs across the room and began to speak. "Well, mainly, I came to wish you well...since we're off duty. Also, I want to know how you're doing on Miss Rockbell's case," he said, not sounding as professional as he could have. Ed watched the dark haired man lean forward, resting his elbows on his knees and pinching the bridge of his nose with two hands, as Winry had done earlier, but with one hand.

With a sigh, Edward told himself he'd ask before Mustang left what was bothering the man. But for the moment, he tossed the notepad to the foot of the bed for Mustang to grab. He'd let the man read his notes, rather than try to explain it all. So there was a small silence now, in which Edward took advantage to think.

He had ticked Winry off pretty badly earlier. It was probably the first time he'd seen her storm out of the room like that. He couldn't blame her, really, for wanting to leave; as Ed replayed his words, and how stubborn and hard he'd been, he felt like wanting to leave his own body, too. Maybe if they upped his morphine a little, it would work...

With a careful sigh, Edward placed his hands in his lap. What was he going to do to make it up to her? A simple apology wasn't going to do it. Winry was far too angry for that to cover his terrible attitude. Even a sincere, heartfelt apology wouldn't work. That left what? Edward figured he could try to improve his outlook on life for a while, see how it worked for him, and try not to be such a martyr. Maybe she would see he was trying, and maybe, just maybe, it would make her smile at him again.

Edward leaned his head back on the hospital pillow. He was so lost, so in love. He was willing to go such a distance, such heights to please a woman. This was slightly crazy. He supposed it had been inevitable from day one, the moment he had laid eye upon her in her sitting room, that he fall in love with her. He didn't want to, though; it wasn't good for him to fall in love with the woman he was supposed to be protecting! It made things difficult when cash was handed over and they parted ways. No, it was bad ethics. Edward sighed. But he couldn't help it. All he could do at the moment was try to accept it and control it.

"Interesting notes," he heard Mustang say from across the room. Edward looked up to see Roy walking the notebook over to him once more. "What do you think?"

With a shrug, the blond Elric took the notepad, set it in his lap, and looked at his scratchy handwriting. "I honestly don't have a clue. I've been on this case for how long? A month, two months? I'm just as clueless on who could be doing this as I was when I started. But these people, Primus and Quintus, probably have a boss they report to every so often. Maybe," he paused in thought, "we could find them and track them." Mustang raised his brows once more as nurses entered the room with a wheelchair. Al stood in the doorway, and Ed could see Winry at the nurse's station. She wouldn't look at him. When Roy began to speak, Ed looked at him.

"Do you really think that will work? From what I read and have heard from you in the past few weeks, these people seem incredibly nimble and able to avoid people when they want." He sounded doubtful.

Suddenly, before Ed could reply, he was attacked by voices.

"Okay, Mr. Elric, time for your X-rays. Come on, and we'll wheel you down to the room."

"Hey, Brother; how are you feeling?"

"I don't know if a tracker could keep up with them."

Those sentences and more all ran together suddenly. The room began to spin a little. Edward lifted his hand to his head and looked at his morphine drip. It looked to be on the same flow as before, so it wasn't that, unless it was side affects. He looked around the room, trying to make it stop tilting and spinning. It happened, however, when his eyes fell on a certain nurse at the end of the room. Time seemed to slow down a little as gold and deep purple eyes met. But as soon as he'd seen that person, the nurse seemed to disappear in the mild chaos of the hospital recovery room. And as soon as that person was lost, Edward came back to the room, as well. It was no longer spinning, and not quite as loud as it had been.

That had been strange. But he took a deep breath as he began shifting a little for that dumb ride to the X-ray room. He looked at his brother, at Mustang, then back at his brother. Al had an expectant look on his face. Edward blinked, not knowing what his brother had said, if anything.

"What?" Edward hoped Al would understand he hadn't heard a word.

With a small chuckle, the younger Elric touched his brother's shoulder carefully. "You can't stay out of trouble, can you?" he asked. "How are you feeling?"

Edward shut his eyes as he sat down in the wheelchair. As he had moved, he'd felt the bruises on his chest stressing painfully. That made him wince. "Not well," he replied, settling down into the seat. "They want X-rays." All Edward could think about right now was the expense. He'd barely been able to pay Al's hospital bill, and it was still six days until Edward was paid again. Since he hadn't been on duty, the station couldn't pay insurance, even though he'd been on a case. Dollar signs floated in his vision and he tried to shake them from his head. Hopefully things wouldn't be too bad, but already was there morphine, and now X-rays. Neither of those were cheap. There was probably going to be a fee for sleeping in the bed, using the "Call Nurse" button, and medication coming up, as well. He closed his eyes, sighed and dropped his head back with a curse.

Before Al could reply, Ed was wheeled out of the room. No one followed. Very slowly, Ed's eyes opened again as they went past the nurse's station. He saw Winry turn to look at him a little. He gave her an apologetic look, and mouthed the words, "I'm sorry," to her before he disappeared down the hallway.

He really did still feel bad. But hopefully, things would clear up soon...hopefully.

* * *

When Edward was being wheeled back into his room, he wore the darkest frown he had ever worn before. Anyone who looked at him and saw his expression immediately averted their gaze and made way for him to pass through the hallway. He could practically feel the sympathy for the triage nurse manning the wheelchair. With a greater sigh than he had been emitting earlier, Edward shut his eyes. Those dumb X-ray technicians. They had moved him all around and poked and prodded his ribs, marked him, and made him freeze on that X-ray table, only to take about two or three pictures of his ribs. His bones were still throbbing from the fingers jabbed at them. That made his frown darken a little more as he felt the wheelchair come to a halt.

Slowly, his eyes opened to find he was in his recovery room once again. He mumbled. His promise to himself that he would try to brighten his attitude was forgotten at the moment. Edward was more than annoyed at those technicians. He didn't like being touched; he had a personal bubble. It had been invaded way too many times that day. One more time, and he was going to snap.

"All right, Mr. Elric; let me help you up," the triage nurse offered.

Edward shot her a glare before trying to stand on his own. "I can do it," he muttered darkly. Immediately, the nurse stood back. She knew not to force him into anything; she knew his file. There were probably notes in there about how testy he was, and how pissy most of the time when he was in the hospital. So he sighed, still trying to push himself up. He was weak from the pain, and not eating anything since he'd woken up, probably three hours ago. Vaguely, Edward remembered having vomited a few times during the night, waking up just enough turn his head into the puke bucket, wipe his mouth, then pass out again. So there was absolutely nothing in his stomach, besides a few gastric acids.

"Mr. Elric, I think...maybe..." the nurse bravely ventured to argue with him.

He shook his head, just barely managing to make it to his feet. "I have it," he growled, just as he began to stumble.

His arms began to flail a little, trying to find something to grab hold to, but he felt a shoulder in his side, holding him up. Edward looked over to see his brother beside him, a slight smile on his face. "Careful, Brother," he said softly, holding Edward up until he had his balance.

Edward frowned still, even as Winry entered the room. She still looked annoyed. That made Edward take a deep breath, trying to calm himself a little. He leaned a little more weight on Al and off of his feet. As soon as he took a second breath, Ed began to feel a little better, a little lighter. He nodded his head a little, then opened his mouth to speak.

But then he quickly lifted his hand to his mouth and began coughing. He felt like he was choking on something. Edward leaned forward a little, holding himself up with one hand on the bed. He could feel the eyes of everyone in the room resting on him as he continued to cough and hack. A moment later, he felt something warm coating his hands. Then he heard Winry gasp and speak his name, worried. He shook his head, still coughing a little.

"A rag?" he said quietly, not pulling his hand away from his face yet. After a few moments, he felt someone wiping at his face. Edward turned to look up at Winry. Her blue eyes were intense, set on his face as she wiped away the blood that had splattered around his mouth. He couldn't help but look into her eyes. She looked hurt still. That was worse than any of the pain he had right now; it was like a stab through his heart.

"Winry," he mumbled softly. She ignored him and grabbed his hand, wiping the blood from his palm. His eyes suddenly turned down, watching her as she carefully worked to removed the blood from his hand. It was fascinating and, somehow, it seemed like such an intimate gesture. She could have ignored him, let him do it himself, but she had wordlessly begun to help him, even though he didn't deserve it. Why? She was still mad at him, wasn't she?

A soft chuckle from the doorway broke into Edward's thoughts. He turned to see Clara, grinning. "You really should be more careful," she advised. "You have to stay longer now, since you caused yourself to bleed again." She didn't sound annoyed at all that he had to remain in the hospital.

But Ed frowned as she walked into the room more. "Great, just what I wanted," he mumbled sarcastically. _What a Christmas present. spending Christmas Eve in the hospital, and being drugged up the next day; wonderful._ Edward sighed and turned, sitting down on the bed. He lowered his head a little and slouched over, trying to relieve the pain in his chest. But in the process of his action, his eyes caught sight of something.

Clara still had two files in her hands. One was his; he knew that much. He could see his name, plain as day. But...on top of it...what was written for the name? Edward lifted his head and tried to see. He only had to see a few letters before it registered. He almost fell forward in shock, but he felt his brother's hand on his shoulder, keeping him upright.

"What is it, Brother?" Alphonse asked softly.

Edward recovered and glared. "Let me see that file," he said, voice suddenly so calm, it was frightening, in contrast to the look on his face.

Clara seemed puzzled. "Other patient files are classified, Edward," she said after a moment. "I can't let you see it."

His glare deepened. "I don't have my badge on me right now, but I'm a police officer. And you know that." Ed's voice began to emote his sudden fury. "Let me see the file."

"Edward," Alphonse's soft voice came from beside him, "what's wrong?"

Before he responded, Edward hopped off the bed and snatched away the top file from Clara. He looked at the name carefully. It left a bad taste in his mouth, just reading it. "How can _that man_ be here?" he spat. "He's supposed to be _dead_."

Edward opened the file, turning and limping away from Clara as she reached for it. The pain in his chest was increasing, and things were becoming a little dim. But there, before his eyes, was a photo of the man that had supposedly died over fifteen years ago, his father, Hohenheim Elric.

"Edward! Sit down, please!" he heard Winry shouting at him suddenly.

Ed looked up. His vision was swimming again. "I..." He didn't even finish his sentence before everything went black. The last thing he remembered was Winry's concerned cry. But still, in his mind's eye and unconsciousness, Edward could see that picture, the picture of the man he hated so much.

What was _he _doing here?


	28. Stop The World

**Disclaimer: Don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, or the song "Stop the World" by the Goo Goo Dolls. :)**

**Author's Note: Wow. Another super long lag. Sorry. Buncha stuff came up. Check the LJ if you're curious. Otherwise, here's the chapter.

* * *

**

**Chapter 28: Stop The World**

The deep laughter that echoed in Edward's mind was only vaguely familiar, yet it felt to him like he'd heard it every day of his life, unfailingly. He couldn't quite remember whose laughter it was, though; he knew it was one he should have been able to recognize without trouble. On and on, he heard reams of laughter repeating in his head. Gradually, a softer, feminine laugh joined the deep male one. They sounded happy; honestly, truly happy together.

Ed heard words, but couldn't decipher them. They sounded like gibberish in his mind, unintelligible. Yet they made sense at the same time, as though he knew exactly of what they were speaking. Edward felt himself frowning in the slightest, but why, he couldn't say.

After a few moments, he saw light. It was orange and red, like a setting sun. When things came more into focus, Edward saw, through a window, a sunset over a river not too far away. Trees and small bushes were blowing in a small breeze. The atmosphere, itself, seemed very peaceful, very happy.

As the view changed, Edward saw three figures, two adults and a child. The adults were standing around a counter top island in the center of a kitchen. The smaller of the two figures, who Edward was guessing to be a woman, held something in her arms. On the opposite side of the island was a larger male figure, hands on the counter. Both were looking at the small child on the island, smiles on their face. Edward's vision focused more on the child.

Said child had some substance smeared all over his face and hands, looking at the adults with a puzzled expression, as though he couldn't quite figure out what was so amusing. But after a moment, he seemed to forget it and reached his hands out to the man, laughing loudly. "Papa!" he squealed happily. Rather than Edward hearing the child's joyful voice, it was more of an understood thing for him.

After a moment, the boy's father lifted him up carefully and took him over to the sink to rinse him off, laughing quietly. "Ah, my son," said the man as he placed the child in the sink, "I don't see how you can make such a mess of yourself in such a short amount of time." He chuckled again, washing the mushy mess off of the child's hands and face. In response, the child clapped his hands together, making the mess go flying across the room and on his father's face and glasses. Some even, Edward saw, made it to the man's golden hair.

Gold hair like his own, like the hair of the child in the sink.

"He takes after you, you know," the woman said as she walked over to the sink. She held a rag in one hand and wiped away some of the mess from the man's face. "I remember, when we were younger, you always managed to make the biggest mess I'd ever seen in a matter of minutes." She laughed and gave him the rag to wipe off the child's hands and face.

The man, who seemed strange and familiar to Edward, laughed again, nervously this time. "Well, I," he began, but never finished, instead opting to lean over to kiss the woman beside him.

With a laugh, the woman shook her head and began to turn. "I'm going to take the little one with me for a nap."

Those last few words seemed to echo once more in Edward's mind. Just as the realization of who these people where, and why they seemed so familiar to him, the memory began to fade away. Edward reached out to the people, to try to hold onto this for a little longer, this happiness and peace. It seemed so strange and foreign to him. He wasn't quite sure what to make of it, but knew it was something he wanted, more than anything else.

But, like all good things he'd ever had a chance to feel, to taste, this faded away, slowly, excruciatingly. It tormented him with each passing moment to see the woman walking down a hallway, disappearing in a blur.

When Edward opened his eyes slowly, he wasn't sure what he was seeing at first. Everything was still a bit of a haze, and his dream and reality were mixed together. He could still see the orange and red of the sunset and could hear the water running in the sink. But at the same time, he could smell the stale, clean scent of the hospital and felt the rough cotton sheets beneath him. After a few moments, though, everything seemed to come together, one way or another. His hospital room came into clear focus and the stench of antiseptic filled his senses. He coughed weakly from the smell filling his senses. A dry, scratchy feeling in the back of his throat made him wonder when he'd last had something to drink.

With a sigh, Edward began to turn onto his side, but felt something pull on his arm. The IV. He grumbled quietly, shutting his eyes again, longing to return to that dream...

* * *

It was quite a few hours later when Edward found himself blinking his eyes open. His bleary vision just barely focused on something dark and rather far away. When he closed and opened his eyes a few more times, Edward began to realize where he was. He was in his car. That's right, he remembered. He had been released from the hospital a little while ago. The moment Al and Winry had carefully lain him down on the backseat, he'd passed out again. Moving around so much hurt all of his sore spots. And, he found out, they'd had to perform surgery on him, after he'd passed out. It had something to do with a ruptured blood vessel. Edward hadn't paid much attention to it, too happy to know that he would be released soon. He did, however, have another set of stitches on his left side now. Ugly ones, too.

But now, as he lay on the backseat of his car, he groaned quietly, lifting his hand over his eyes. A few moments later, he heard voices from the front seat. He couldn't quite tell what they were saying yet, but slowly he was able to begin to understand every other word or so. Carefully, he peeked out from under his arm to see Winry looking back at him.

"...awake yet?" she had asked.

He shut his eyes again and shook his head. Very promptly after, he felt himself dozing off once more.

When he woke again, Edward didn't feel as dizzy as before. Slowly, he opened one eye, and then the other to see the interior of the roof of his car once more. His vision was so clear now, he could see each and every white ball of fluff on the roof, staring back at him. With a sigh, he averted his gaze from the ceiling, finding something disturbing about that. His eyes roamed to the front of the vehicle, where his brother was sitting in the driver's seat, head down, reading something. The passenger seat was empty. Where was Winry?

With great difficulty and much pain and groaning, Edward managed to sit up. He leaned his forehead against the cold glass, feeling the Christmas Eve chill seep into his skin. It nagged at him; he should have been concerned about Winry's whereabouts, but he was hurting too much at the moment to care. He sighed, watching his breath cause the frozen window to fog. That sigh, though, made him wince a little, due to the soreness in his ribs.

If there was one thing he had to say he hated about his job, it would be the physical abuse he endured from whomever he was fighting. Whenever he had a particularly rough beat (which this had been the first one in a while, due to his extended time on Winry's case), the next day was always the worst. Well, it was the day after being beaten up and Ed was definitely feeling it. He groaned again, quietly, at the memory.

Apparently, he had been loud enough to bring his brother from his book, as Al turned around, shoving a gas station courtesy cup of coffee into his hands. Edward mumbled his thanks then took a hasty sip of it. The nearly burning hot liquid felt good going down, as Edward was beginning to feel a little cold, despite the heater being on in the car.

"How are you feeling?" he heard Al ask from the front seat. He was turned a little to look back at Ed.

The older Elric sighed, fogging the window again briefly. "Not good," he murmured. This went deeper than the physical feeling for Edward. He knew his brother would realize that, too. The memory of what he'd last seen before passing out in the hospital came back to him, suddenly. It left a bad taste in the back of his mouth. "Al...at the hospital," he began, then paused. That pause was long enough for Alphonse to speak up.

"That was a little weird," the younger man said, knowing what Edward meant.

Ed wanted to shrug, but neither of his shoulders were good at the moment so he refrained. "It was. That file that Clara had; it was Dad's." Those last few words seemed to deaden the air in the car. There was silence from both Elrics that lasted for quite a while; one mulled over the news and the other considered what it meant.

The silence continued, even as Winry came back to the car, holding a few bags in her hands. When she turned around to place them on the floor of the backseat, Edward saw her smile, a little surprised. "You're awake," she said softly.

With a little nod, Edward shifted a little on the backseat, keeping his forehead pressed on the glass and the coffee cup near his mouth. "Yeah," he mumbled. He sighed once more, making the glass on the window fog a little for a few seconds. Slowly, his eyes slid shut, even though he wasn't tired enough to go back to sleep. He was just a little annoyed.

How was it that his father was alive? Much less, in the same hospital at the same time as Ed? What had the man been doing in Central to put himself in the hospital, anyway? What had he been doing in Central, period? Edward had always assumed his father dead. He didn't know what to think about his father suddenly appearing again; he didn't know if he should be happy that he was alive or angry that he'd never contacted them. At the moment, as his annoyance increased, Edward was fairly sure he should be angry.

His father had abandoned them, left his mother to take care of two boys. Sure, he'd left them some money, which their mother had never used, but that didn't change the fact he'd never called to see if they were all still alive. It wasn't that hard to pick up a phone, was it? Or, if ever in the same town, it probably took more effort _not_ to see a person than to go see them anyway.

Edward let out an irritated sigh, taking a large sip of his coffee, not caring it burned his mouth. When he leaned his head on the glass again, it was done with enough force to make a noise. Winry turned around to look at him.

"Are you all right, Ed?" she asked. Her voice was still soft, like before, and it soothed Edward in the slightest.

He shrugged, though, deciding not to answer. He wasn't all right in more ways than one, and he didn't want to explain them all to Winry, not at that moment. He didn't want to lie, either, since she could see right through them. So he took a deep breath, shutting his eyes once more. "Wake me when we're home," he murmured, leaning his head back on the seat. He would at least try to nap for a little while so he'd have enough energy to talk to Al at the house.

* * *

A few hours later, Edward found himself at the bar in Winry's kitchen. It was late, probably around midnight, and he had just woken up from a nap. Shortly after arriving back at his house in downtown, Winry had sheepishly asked him if they could spend Christmas at her house. Much to her surprise, it had seemed from her expression, Edward had almost immediately consented. He had been too tired and in too much pain to argue with her. He'd also considered, in his few moments of thought, the recent happenings: Scar breaking in and Envy beating him up. It had seemed logical that they change environments to keep their enemies guessing. Though it would only be a matter of time before they figured out where they where. Where they'd go after was beyond Ed, currently.

With a bit of a grimace, Edward held his side, over his stitches, and took a bite of his cheese sandwich. One bad thing about the medicine he was taking was that it made him hungry. He'd woken around eleven-thirty earlier, had taken a pill or two, and within ten minutes had been carefully trudging through the house to find something to eat. Of course, they'd brought the groceries from Ed's house to Winry's, since some of the stuff had gone bad, or she was just lacking, anyway.

Edward sighed, making the edge of his napkin lift a little. After a few moments, he drummed the fingers of his metal hand on the counter, the only noise in the kitchen, until he heard footsteps from the stairway. Seconds later, Al appeared, yawning.

"Hey," he said, smiling a little. "When did you wake up?"

Ed gave a small shrug. "Thirty minutes ago, I guess," he mumbled, taking another bite of his sandwich. When he chewed and swallowed, he took a sip of his drink, remaining silent. His mind was too tired to initiate conversation at that present moment.

Al sat at the end of the bar, two stools away from Edward, with a small frown. He seemed troubled. "You said that file was Dad's, right?" he asked, voice quiet.

That's what it was. Edward had almost forgotten about that for the time being, what with his nap. So he nodded, replying with a simple, "Yeah."

Before he had a chance to finish that one word, Al was speaking again. "How is that possible? I thought he was dead." There was a slightly annoyed edge to his voice.

Edward nodded. "I did, too." A yawn escaped him. It wasn't that Ed was bored with the subject or not wanting to talk about it; he just didn't feel like talking _at that moment_. But that always seemed to happen: when Al wanted to talk, Ed didn't and vice versa.

"How long do you think he's been in Central?" Alphonse wanted to know, the annoyed edge gone now. He was playing with something small between his fingers.

The question, though, made Ed nearly choke. He coughed, though, and that wracked his ribs painfully. "Jeez, Al, I don't know. He never called us after he left, and probably wouldn't have called us anyway. I doubt he knows we live in Central." Ed paused, considering his words and the possible outcome they may have. "I doubt he even knows Mom died."

Al sighed. "Maybe he does, Ed. Maybe he knows that we live here and was coming to see us," he argued, voice still quiet.

Ed gave that some consideration. "Maybe. But, here's an equal chance that he wasn't, doesn't even know we're alive still. Maybe he doesn't even care, Al." He knew that was cynical of him to say, especially to his younger brother, who still had good memories of their father, but Edward couldn't help who he was.

His statement seemed to strike a nerve in Al. "He's our father, Ed! Of course he cares!" he said a little loudly. "Why wouldn't he?"

Edward tossed the remainder of his sandwich - a few bites of crust left - on his napkin. "Alphonse, he left before I turned thirteen. He has _never_ tried to contact us since then, and I'm almost twenty-two now. He's our father. If he cared about us, he would have come back for at least Mom's funeral. But he didn't." A glare set itself on his features. "He doesn't care."

Alphonse returned the hard look, taking a deep breath. There was a little bit of a pout forming on his lips. A small silence held between the brothers before the younger one stood up from his spot and retreated once more, up the stairs.

A swear escaped Edward's lips as he balled up his sandwich in the napkin and threw it away. He took the last few sips of his drink before setting it in the sink. It didn't rid him of the bad taste in his mouth, though from that argument. But what he'd said was true, wasn't it? If their father cared even a little about them, or just even their mother, he would have come to the funeral a few years ago, right?

Edward shook his head and walked up the stairs. Wrong.

When he walked into his room, Edward went straight to his bed. It was the same room he'd slept in before, right next to the stairs to go up to the third floor and down to the first. Winry was just down the hall. Al's room was further down. He had purposely set it up that her room be between his and his brother's for security reasons when he'd first started living in Winry's home. In his house, she had slept in his room with him for security reasons, as well, because they had no other bedroom. It was true that Ed or Al could have given up their room for her. For some reason, Edward hadn't...neither had Al, and Ed hadn't wanted to make Winry sleep in a man's room.

With a sigh, Edward lay down on the bed carefully, very wary of his sore body. A quiet groan escaped him as he shifted so he was lying on his back, head tilted so his chin was in the air. One hand was on his chest, over his heart, which would beat faster when he thought of Winry, like he was now.

Edward had bought Christmas presents a few weeks ago when he and Winry had gone grocery shopping. He'd sent her off with her list of things to buy and had walked over to the jewelry shop a little further down in the shopping center to pick up what he and Al had ordered. He'd only been in the shop for about ten minutes, then walked right back out with two small bags, proudly declaring the jeweler company in silver letters. Of course, he'd hidden the bags in the car, in the glovebox so Winry wouldn't see them.

A necklace. He'd bought her a necklace. It had a little heart-shaped diamond, held onto the silver chain by a medieval looking clamp with three prongs, one in front and two in back. Edward quite liked the style and hoped Winry would, too.

Alphonse had bought the matching earrings. They were small diamonds, held on a smaller and shorter silver chain by the same clamp. The chain wasn't very long, maybe three-quarters of an inch, so they didn't dangle very far down.

Again, Edward knew his brother had liked the style and hoped Winry would, as well.

Edward sighed one more. Through his thoughts, he'd felt his body slowly going numb as sleep began to reclaim him. It had started at his toes and worked its way up to the top of his head. So currently, Edward lay, unaware of his body but mind still present in the room. He even heard the small noise of the door to his room open. It wasn't an unusual, startling sound. During his nap earlier, someone had come in to take his temperature to make sure he wasn't running a fever. Ed didn't know if his perception of time had been off or not, but to him, it had seemed quite a while before the person left.

After a few moments, his body was startled out of its numbness to feel a hand on his forehead. Edward opened his eyes slowly to see Winry standing at the bedside. She looked nearly as startled as his body felt. But Edward managed to lift hand over his mouth and yawn. At the same time, he felt Winry's hand slowly slide from his forehead. A shy, almost hesitant smile touched her lips.

Edward immediately remembered, without having to wonder anything, their argument that morning. He frowned inwardly as he began to push himself up to a sitting position. He felt Winry's hands on his arm and waist helping him. He smiled at her, but it was a little hesitant, as well, for a different reason. He was going to apologize to her, but it was always awkward feeling for him to apologize to anyone.

"Thanks," he murmured when he was sitting up. He pulled his knees in and leaned forward with his arms on his legs. Just as he was about to take a breath to begin his apology, Winry spoke.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him when she sat on the edge of the bed.

Taken with a little surprise, Edward couldn't speak for a moment, sitting with his mouth slightly open. He recovered after a moment, clearing his throat. "I'm, ah...okay," he said carefully, "I guess." He shrugged a little, his slight shock gone. "I still hurt everywhere."

A small laugh from Winry made him wince a little. That smile of hers had betrayed her for all of a few moments, letting Edward know she was still thinking about their argument. Now, though, she was acting like it didn't bother her. "Well," she was saying, "it only happened last night. Your body won't recover that quickly, no matter what you think." Her eyes flickered hesitantly to his metal limbs.

Edward nodded. "You're right," he mumbled. That seemed to earn some surprise from Winry now, as her eyes whipped up to his quickly. Before she could speak again, Edward continued. "Winry, about this morning," he said quickly, "the argument." She nodded at him, eyes slightly sullen. "I'm sorry. I don't want to make excuses, especially to you. I just...really don't like hospitals, and everything about them put me on an edg--"

He was cut off by a slender finger against his lips. Edward lifted his eyes from his feet to Winry's blue orbs, wondering when he'd looked away. Her eyes were glistening a little, but whether her tears were happy because he had apologized or sad that he'd brought it up, Ed didn't know. Women were so strange; they cried for the silliest reasons.

"It's okay, Edward," he heard her whispering. "I was just...a little upset, still, about last night."

Another memory came to Edward. Winry had shot someone, killed them. He immediately felt like an idiot for not worrying about her. He swore under his breath, looking around him before scooting over on his bed. "Come here," he mumbled to her.

There was silence for a few moments, no one moving. But a moment later, Winry slowly moved closer to him. Edward slipped his arms around her, carefully pulling her close. He didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable in his arms, and he didn't want to upset his body. When it seemed Winry was going to let him hold her in one of his not-as-rare-as-before outburts of sweetness, and that his body wasn't going to rebel, Edward let out a soft breath into Winry's hair. The moment he rubbed his hand down her back, he felt her body begin to shake.

He felt so sorry for her, that she'd had to experience killing someone. He knew, from experience, how it could make someone feel. Having lost his mother in a tragic way, the first time he'd killed someone, he'd thought that it had been someone's parent. That had been all he'd been able to think for a while, for quite a few days. But slowly, he'd come out of the stupor for long enough to take a breath and accept what he'd done.

With the shake of his head, Edward pushed away his thoughts, focusing on Winry. He made a few quiet shushing noises to her, murmuring what he hoped would be comforting words. This continued for quite some time as Winry released the emotions she'd been hiding for the past twenty-four hours. Edward didn't mind, though.

Somewhere in the house, a clock struck half past the hour. Edward was assuming it was officially Christmas, had been for about thiry minutes. About this time, Winry's tears were coming to a halt, slowly but surely. His hand continued to rub on her back, holding her close. No one had done the like for him in quite a while, but Ed remembered how soothing the feeling was.

A few minutes later, Edward heard Winry's voice, weak and unsteady from her tears. "Is it all right if I stay in here, with you?" she asked.

Edward bit his lip suddenly. He had been trying to ignore the fact he'd gotten used to going to sleep with his arms around Winry from the past few weeks. He had assumed that, since they were in Winry's mansion house now with plenty of rooms, that things would go back to normal: a work relationship.

He may have been jumping to a conclusion or two about what it meant that Winry wanted to sleep in his room with him. It could have just been because she was too tired to go back to her room, or possibly didn't want to spend the night alone after reliving the memory of what she'd done. That could have been it, nothing else. But, it was just as possible as the other options that she wanted to stay with him for completely different reasions.

But Edward found himself nodding. "Sure. Just don't kick me," he mumbled.

He saw Winry's mood shift immediately, saw her resisting the urge to sissy hit him, due to his injuries. "I do not kick in my sleep," she argued, sliding down in the bed, a small but playful frown on her lips.

Edward nodded again. "Yes, you do." He stayed sitting up so he could look down at her. "Trust me, I would know." He winked at her, however, just because it seemed like something he could and should do.

Winry rolled her eyes at him. "Well you snore," she groused.

"I know," Ed replied confidently, finally laying down beside her. He scooted away, though, carefully. Suddenly, he felt a little nervous as he turned onto his side, facing Winry.

There was a small silence while Winry shifted, finding a comfortable spot. After a few moments, he saw her reach out to turn off the lamp next to the bed. The room went dark with minimal light coming through the curtains. Edward could still see, though, as Winry shivered a little. He supposed it was cold in the room, but he liked cold. Besides, he had enough medication in his body to still be feeling warm from the high it'd given him.

Gradually, even as Edward scooted away slowly, he felt Winry's body come closer and closer to his. When her back was almost against his chest, Edward cleared his throat a little, slightly uncomfortable. He wasn't quite sure what to do at the moment, whether he should let her stay where she was or to scoot away.

After a moment, that question was answered for him when he felt Winry grab his arm and pull it around her. It was his metal arm, but she didn't seem to mind as she sighed, content. Edward, feeling a little more comfortable now, sighed lightly. After a moment, he even held her a little closer to his chest.

"Good night, Winry."


	29. As Long As It Matters

**Disclaimer: Don't own FMA. Don't own "As Long As It Matters," which is by the Gin Blossoms by the way. Great band.**

**Author's Note: Wow, another long wait. Sorry 'bout that. Again, no excuse since they're useless. But anyway. Enjoy.**

**----------------**

**Chapter 29: As Long As It Matters**

Footsteps echoed in the dark room, going at a slightly fast, but steady pace. Maybe another day, another time, it would have made the room seem spacious. But instead, being able to hear the echo, adding in the definite lack of light, made the place seem cramped and forboding. It definitely sent shivers through the spine of the person walking through the room.

Upon reaching the end of the room, the feminine voice hesitantly called out, "Master! What is our next move?" Just like the footsteps, the voice echoed eerily.

The first response was silence, in which someone else may have assumed that the "master" was gone temporarily, but she knew better. Within a few more seconds, a deep, slightly gruff voice replied.

"Since your _brother_ messed up our tracking," came the almost weary voice, "I suppose we'll need a new approach. But too long have we been dormant, letting them think we had given up. We haven't. We must strike again."

Another pause, but this time from the woman, seeking council of her next assignment. "He knows I am no longer a friend, so I cannot be of assistance when it comes to tracking them. He'll recognize me in a heartbeat," the woman said softly, hoping her words wouldn't anger her master. She'd seen what happened to those who had, and tried to avoid his wrath at all costs.

"I know." The words were heavy, but it could have just been from the weariness she heard on his voice. "I know," he repeated, this time thoughtful. "No, you cannot go. Your brother, while his talent is useful, was disobedient and is being punished. I will not show him mercy, unless we become desperate." There was another silence, but the woman knew not to speak. She could practically feel the energy radiating from her master as he thought.

At the back of the room, the woman could just barely hear the loud steps of the brother who followed her around nearly at all times. Quartarius, he had been given as a second name. It was his alias in the outside world, while his true name was Gluttony. His loyalty was quite handy at times. The woman liked having him around, as well. The others thought him a mindless eating machine with no brain for anything other than food. While that may have been true, it had served the duo well in the past.

She was drawn out of her thoughts suddenly when her master spoke. "Send in the Sloth," he said, voice cold and calculating once more, even though there was a slight tinge of amusement.

A smirk curled onto Lust's lips. "Of course, Master," she said in her usual sultry tone. "At once."

"Dismissed."

Sloth. Lust held her smirk. This meant utter trickery. Her favorite ploy.

----------------

Winry sighed as she pushed a tray of food into the oven. The kitchen, despite the almost bitter cold outside, was very warm. She used the oven mitt on her hand to wipe the sweat from her brow. The glass of water, that used to have ice in it, had beads of condensation on the sides. A nervous laugh escaped her.

It was amazing how warm the room could become with the oven and the stove on at the same time. But, that's what happened when you suddenly had guests coming over. Winry didn't know if it was just her Christmas spirit despite what had happened the other day, or something else, but when Mr. Hughes had pulled up with his wife, daughter, gifts, and plenty of food that was waiting to be baked, it hadn't seemed rude. Sure, he had invited himself and his family, but there was something touching about it, that he would spend his Christmas with a bunch of young people. The man couldn't have been that old, but he had his fair share of gray hairs.

On that note, Winry looked over at the man's wife, Glacier. Winry had never met her before, but as the short-haired woman had stepped into the kitchen with a pan or two in her arms, the younger woman had felt an immediate connection.

That had been about ten in the morning, and it was now lunch time. Some of the food was slow cooking to be ready for dinner, while a few plates of food were aleady set out neatly for lunch. Winry looked over them, impressed, then up at Glacier. The older woman smiled as she dried her hands.

"Thank you," Winry said suddenly. "I haven't had a family Christmas in a while, since my parents passed away."

Glacier walked over and placed her hand on Winry's shoulder. "I'm sorry to hear that, but I'm glad that you have that feeling again." She smiled a little once more.

Winry smiled as well then leaned against the counter. It was especially hard for her, at the moment, to remain chipper and smiling, though she was trying. What had happened the other night at the supposed "fun house" hadn't been fun at all after a while. It still weighed heavily on her mind what she'd done, that she had killed someone. Crying about it on Edward's shoulder last night _had_ helped, a lot, but she still felt very troubled about it.

It was Christmas, though; Winry was going to try her hardest to stay happy. With that thought, her eyes strayed out the window. Mr. Hughes, Edward, Alphonse, and Mr. Hughes' daughter, Elysia were all outside, playing in the snow. Sometime overnight, a fine blanket had come down, making it the ultimate white Christmas. The smile widened when her eyes fell on Edward. He had just done a face plant into the snow after Elysia launched herself onto his back. Winry saw Al laughing at his brother, pointing his hand. Edward lifted his head, face covered in snow, and rested his chin in his fist. His lips moved like he was talking but suddenly made a face when Elysia's hands slammed into his back. That made Winry wince, since he was probably still sore from the other day. She made a small noise, lifting her hand to cover her mouth. Winry had completely forgotten that Glacier was standing right next to her until she heard the older woman laugh.

"Elysia forgets that people aren't as energetic as she is," Glacier said, turning back to finish preparing the lunch plates.

A small laugh escaped Winry. "Edward is energetic all right, when he wants to be. It's just, he's really sore. He was in a fight the other day." As Winry spoke, her voice fell a little and a small frown replaced her smile.

The young blond saw the older woman pause for a moment, but continue moving moments later. "I heard about that from Maes. He seems all right, though," she said.

Winry nodded, walking behind a chair and placing her hands on it. "Yeah, he is. He's just..." with a shrug, Winry trailed off for a few moments, "a little reckless, sometimes." She told herself that was all it was, that Ed was just reckless, but she knew that he was hurt because he'd been protecting her. She knew that she shouldn't feel bad about it on top of her other feelings, that he was doing his job, but she just couldn't help it.

As if reading her thoughts, Glacier spoke up. "Don't feel bad, Winry," the woman said softly, laying her hand over Winry's. "Be happy that it wasn't worse."

Again, Winry nodded. Mr. Hughes came in the back door, shivering a little. "Brr! It's cold out!" he said in his usual, jovial voice. He walked over to the stove and sniffed. "It smells wonderful, honey." He beamed a smile at his wife.

The two spoke for a moment, and Winry turned her gaze out the window once more to see Elysia dive-tackling Alphonse. Edward was laughing, not far from the two. Winry mused that he was wishing he had been a little further away as he suddenly fell. Winry shifted a little to see Al's hand on his brother's ankle. A small laugh escaped Winry.

"He's a great guy, isn't he, Winry?"

Winry looked over to see Hughes. His smile, which seemed to always be on his lips, was aimed at her. It nearly knocked the young woman down from the happiness she saw. This, she thought, was a man that lived life to its fullest, one-hundred percent and then some, all the time. His smile was contagious, as well, as she felt her lips curling a little. She didn't have a chance to reply, though, before Hughes began speaking again.

"I keep telling Edward he needs to find a woman and settle down. Having a family is great." His arm went around his wife's waist, pulling her close to accentuate his point. "But everytime I bring up the subject, he hangs up the phone or just walks away." Hughes said this with an ease that told Winry it was a regular occurrence that wouldn't soon discourage the man.

A small blush touched Winry's cheeks though. "Edward doesn't seem like the family type," she said cautiously, checking the food in the oven.

"Nonsense!" Hughes reached out to a tray of food, snagging a small bit of food. Glacier voiced her distaste for the action, but Hughes seemed not to notice. "Edward is great with kids. You see how much fun he's having with Elysia?" Hughes laughed when he saw his daughter tackle Edward from behind, sending him face first into the snow, again. "He's just a little rough around the edges and needs a strong woman to smooth him out."

Although Hughes hadn't said it, Winry knew exactly what he meant, exactly what he was implying. It made Winry blush. Her gaze turned outside once more. She didn't know if it was coincidence, or fate had a part in this as well, but Winry's eyes caught Edward's. They held each others gaze for a few moments before Ed waved a little. Before Winry had the chance to do the same, the moment was over and Edward was yanked back into the world of playing.

A moment later, Winry felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked over to see Glacier smiling a little. "Do you think you could round up the children and tell them it's lunchtime?" she asked, chuckling.

Winry laughed, nodding her head. "Sure," she said, smiling at the older woman. Within moments, Winry was standing out on her porch, shivering a little. The temperature change from the very warm kitchen to the very cold outside was a little shocking to the system, but Winry didn't mind after a moment. It felt nice for the moment.

"Hey, kids!" she said, pushing open the screen door and leaning against the threshold. "Lunch is ready."

Before she had time to finish, all three people jumped to their feet, brushing themselves off a little as they walked towards the house. Winry grinned a bit at them. They all had red faces and were sniffing from the cold.

Al walked passed her first, smiling as he did. It was a smile that said he was happy, but just wished that it wasn't so cold. Then it was Elysia, quickly gaining on Al. She didn't seem to care about the cold. Or, maybe she did, which was why she was moving so quickly. But last was Edward, who was still trying to brush snow off his jacket. The grin on Winry's face spread a little.

"Here, let me help," she offered. She reached out to brush at his shoulders. A small laugh escaped her when she saw a little bit of a playful scowl touch Edward's face. Just as she was about to let him pass her, though, Ed stumbled. Why, Winry couldn't have said. It could have been that the joints in his metal prosthetic were frozen and not wanting to move right. Or, that force of fate could have pushed him. But the next thing Winry knew, she felt his weight fall against her. It brought to mind the time in her attic when he had squashed the spider. This time, though, they remained standing.

A nervous, slightly annoyed laugh escaped Edward. For some reason, Winry had no problem placing those two traits in his chuckle, so they didn't bother her. Instead, she let her own nervous laugh escape, as well, lifting both hands to Ed's shoulders. Her hands slowly curled over his coat, pushing him back a little to help him keep his balance.

"You all right?" Winry asked softly. Her lips curved a little in a slight smile as Ed looked up. That smile became suddenly plastered when she felt Ed's lips brush hers on what she thought was an accident.

Both had realized it. Both had felt it. Both seemed to be in slight denial of it, too. Edward was the first to recover, though. He stood back carefully, nodding. "Yeah," he said softly. It took Winry a moment to remember he was answering her question.

So she shook her head inwardly, shaking away the slightly longing feeling, then nodded her head on the outside. "Good," she murmured, slowly removing her hands from his shoulders. Her smile crept back onto her face, though it felt a little fake once more, like it had earlier when talking to Glacier.

There were a few moments between the two, a few moments of silence that neither moved, neither said anything. It was an understood silence where they said nothing, yet said everything they needed to hear at the same time. Winry somehow felt better as those memories of what she'd done crept up on her. Seeing Edward's face and his "always in charge" expression made Winry feel a little more secure, a little more relieved that, just maybe, things were going to start being okay again. What Edward got out of that moment, though, she couldn't say. She hoped it was something he'd remember.

-------------------

Edward peered down into a clear glass with suspicion. There was some milk-looking substance in his glass. Even though he knew it wasn't milk, he still refused to drink it. It was eggnog. It probably had milk _in_ it. While some things were okay, this just didn't seem right. So, since he was standing beside the sink, he went to discretely pour it down the drain, hoping that the people around would think he'd drunk it already and leave him alone.

Yes, he had been receiving small amounts of grief over not drinking his eggnog. Some people, in his past, had said it was bad luck to go the entire Christmas season without a sip of it. Some people just knocked his height, mentioning that if he drank it, the milk in it would make him taller. He didn't really appreciate that. It made him detest the drink even more.

So, with a sense of morbid fascination, he watched the tinted liquid disappear down the drain in Winry's sink slowly. It left a milky residue behind. Just because he felt a strong sense of distaste for it, he turned on the faucet to wash it away, leaving no trace of what he'd done. Heck, he even decided to rinse out his glass. No evidence of eggnog any more. He smirked, feeling ten times better.

Edward cleared his throat and looked up at the small gathering of people as most of them disappeared down the hall to the sitting room, the place where Ed and Winry had first met. Most of the people...except for Hughes. Edward would have banged his head into the countertop if he didn't know that Winry would kill him for it. Whenever Hughes stayed behind, it never meant anything good for anyone. Except Hughes, himself.

Slowly, the dark haired man walked over to the counter. Ed immediately felt like the "hunted" in this situation, with Hughes being the "hunter." After blinking a few times, a plan to escape came to mind. He'd just carefully excuse himself to the bathroom, maybe, and hide for the rest of the evening. No, that wouldn't work. Winry would look for him and fuss at him for being rude. Maybe he could just slip past Hughes and join everyone else. Whenever Hughes cornered someone, it was always because of something that would really embarrass the other person if in a group or other people. For some reason, Hughes rarely brought up the subject, whatever it may be, with Ed when they were in groups. Mostly, it was because it was very often something terribly embarrassing for the younger man. Inwardly, Ed was grateful for that, but couldn't help but wonder what this situation was.

So Ed carefully began to attempt his escape, having decided to try to meet up with the rest of the people in the room with the Christmas tree. Just as he was about to slip past the bar, where Hughes was standing, the older man reached out and touched Ed's shoulder, keeping him from moving.

"Just a minute there, kiddo," he said, grinning. The light glinted in the man's glasses.

Edward frowned at being called "kiddo," but stopped anyway. May as well get it over with. So he took a deep breath and a step or two back, shoving his hands in his pockets. It was a stance that clearly said to get it over with.

Hughes sat down at the bar and tilted his head to the side, indicating for Ed to sit beside him. Not quite reluctantly, but not willingly either, Edward moved and sat down at the bar. The moment he did, he found some crumbs on the granite and began pushing them around with his metal hand. They were terribly interesting.

"So," Hughes began. He seemed to be wording his question, or whatever he had in mind. That didn't always bode well, but there were rare times it had. "How's Winry's case going?"

Edward was a little surprised, enough so that he looked up at the older man. No slightly fatherly talk or harassment about a girlfriend? No interrogation about his and Winry's relationship? Ed wasn't just surprised; he was shocked. Usually Hughes would jump right into that. He was either really asking about the case or was going to work to those questions.

With a little hesitation, Edward sat up straighter. "It's, um, good, I guess," he said carefully. "When I was in the hospital, I made a list of what's happened so far; it cleared things up in my head a lot." He paused, long enough for Hughes to speak.

"Roy told me about that. He thinks you've made some good headway." There was a brief silence, so Edward went back to pushing the crumbs around, taking the compliment silently. "He also thinks," Hughes spoke up once more, making Ed stiffen, "that you're taking quite a while with it. Maybe that you're purposely procrastinating."

Edward frowned a little. "I'm not," he mumbled. "It's a difficult case, and things have just recently started to get moving on it."

Hughes, however, continued like he hadn't heard Ed. "I might agree that you're procrastinating. For a different reason, however. Roy thinks it's to annoy him." There was a pause. Hughes leaned closer as he whispered, "_I_ think it's because of your relationship with Winry."

He'd known it was coming, had expected it from the beginning. Why he was so startled to hear it, though, that he almost fell foward on the counter, Ed didn't know. Maybe it was because his superior had danced around it briefly. "What relationship?" Ed asked, his annoyance showing. Being startled passed into being annoyed for Edward. He was always this way when Hughes asked him about his personal life. He knew he shouldn't get this way, since the man really did care and wasn't just being nosy, but Ed couldn't help it.

"Oh, I don't know. I just figured that you were taking a while with the case so you wouldn't have to leave Winry," Hughes suggested nonchalantly, obviously pretending not to notice Ed's annoyance. As usual.

Edward took a deep breath and slowly let it out. The crumbs on the counter moved a little. How was he going to respond to this? He wasn't really sure about his relationship with Winry, wasn't sure if he could even call it a relationship. And perhaps there was some truth to what Hughes was saying. At the beginning of the case, Ed had been all go, no stop about getting things done, strictly business. During the middle, though, he'd slacked off, become casual and let things take a strange, different turn. Just recently, though, since he and Winry had become closer, he'd gotten more involved in the case again. He knew he was in love with Winry; he'd admitted it to himself in the hospital, almost reluctantly. He also knew that it might have been a mistake to let himself fall in love with her because she was hiring him. It should have been a business, know-only-what-he-needed-to-know relationship, not a personal one.

Too late, now.

Maybe Hughes had become impatient waiting for Ed to respond, or maybe he knew that Edward couldn't answer it, because the older man clapped Ed on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it," he said. "I'm just a nosy old man."

The alchemist was just about to agree when Hughes' cell phone rang. The man brought it to his ear after a moment with the strange greeting of, "Yello'." Ed blinked a few times. Then he turned back to pushing the crumbs around, this time with his flesh hand. The crumbs stuck to his skin. "I'm at Miss Rockbell's right now. She and Ed were kind enough to let us spend Christmas with them," Hughes was saying. "Why don't you come up, too? You've got to be lonely in that apartment of yours." There was a pause from Hughes in which Ed could vaguely hear the person on the other end of the phone call yelling. It sounded like Mustang. In the middle of the yelling, Hughes interrupted, sounding like he was ignoring Mustang's outburst. "Great, I'll call Hawkeye, too. I'm sure Ed and Winry won't mind an extra person or two. See you soon." And with that, Hughes ended the call.

Edward shook his head a few times, eyes still on the crumbs. That man...was probably one of the most annoying people Ed had ever met. But in Hughes' insistance, Ed found a strange comfort. No matter how vexing the man was, he was always kind and concerned. That's why people could tolerate him.

"You don't mind two extra house guests for the evening, do you?" Hughes asked.

With a shake of his head, Edward looked up. What could he do, tell the man no? Of course not. "Don't mind at all," he said softly. No, he couldn't tell Hughes he couldn't invite people. It was Christmas. Even Edward could be nice then.

------------------------

It was very late that evening that Edward found himself out on a balcony. It was snowing lightly and there was a bit of a breeze blowing. It didn't bother him, though. He had a coat and scarf on, and his hands were shoved in his pockets. He'd let his hair down from a braid so it covered his neck. The only thing that was cold was his nose, but that was fine, really. He couldn't be completely covered, and he'd rather his face be cold rather than anything else.

Mustang and Hawkeye had come over about thirty to forty-five minutes after Hughes' calls. Both had come bearing small gifts. After they'd arrived, everyone had opened presents. In fact, Ed was wearing one of his right now: the scarf Winry had bought for him. It was soft and quite warm. Though Ed didn't have a favorite color, Winry had chosen well with blue. It wasn't dark blue, but it wasn't sky blue either. It was somewhere between, a soft shade. He liked it. It almost matched Winry's eyes...

Everyone else had liked their presents, giving and receiving them. The evening had been filled with smiles, even Edward's.

After presents, everyone had helped clean up, then eaten dinner together. Ed had been strangely comfortable around everyone, and the three police department members had mostly talked about things other than work. The three women had talked about recipes, with Elysia listening intently and asking questions as well. The four men had talked about general "man" things, sports and a few traveling issues. Apparently, Roy was going out of town to East City soon about a possible transfer. Ed wasn't sure if he liked that idea or not. That meant that Ed would have a new boss soon, if the transfer happened. Following dinner had been some time in the front room, where the Christmas tree was. The adults had talked over coffee, while Elysia had fallen asleep on her mother's lap. Edward had smiled at that. The little girl was cute.

About an hour earlier, everyone had left. Edward had milled about the house for a while, cleaning up little things. Al had announced he was going to head into town to his and Ed's house to pick some things up about thirty minutes prior to Ed going outside. The older Elric had been out on the balcony for about ten minutes and was thinking about going inside soon. The breeze was slowly turning into actual wind, chilling him more.

As he turned around to go inside, though, Ed heard the door open. Winry stepped out in a coat and a scarf. The earrings and necklace he and Al had bought her glistened briefly in the moonlight. Her lips curled into a soft smile.

"Hi," she said, her smile carrying to her voice. She seemed happy.

Edward smiled at her, as well, really smiled. "Hey."

Winry didn't say anything as she walked over to the balcony. She leaned against the railing. The falling snow caught on her hair, melting almost immediately from the warmth it still carried from her being inside. The two remained in an understood silence for a few minutes, neither feeling the need to talk. Edward just looked out into the surrounding area. The ground was completely white from the snow. It made Ed smile a little, for some reason.

"What's funny?" he heard Winry ask from beside him.

Ed turned to look at her. Her eyes were gently fixed on him. Her lips were still curved up in a smile. "Nothin'," he said to her, grinning now, rather than smiling. "Just the snow...it's beautiful."

Winry looked out over the area, as well. "It is." She smiled a little more at it.

With a small sigh, Edward looked around again. After a moment, he turned so his back was against the railing and he was looking at Winry's house. The very red bricks were in stark contrast to the snow on the roof and the balcony floor. It made him feel funny inside. Or maybe it was the memory of his conversation with Hughes earlier that made him feel that way. His lips turned strangely into a vague frown. He wanted to ask Winry, finally, about their "relationship." Winry had openly told him she loved him, but Ed just couldn't help but wonder about it now. He'd been such a jerk to her recently that he wondered a little if she still felt that way. He hated beginning conversations like this, so he was glad when Winry spoke up.

"Ed? Is there something wrong?" She reached out to touch his arm.

Edward shrugged a little. "I just have a question, and I'm trying to figure out how to word it," he mumbled.

Winry smiled a bit. "Just ask; don't worry about it."

Her smile was encouraging, so Ed nodded. "All right." He couldn't help the pause, though. "What do you think about our...'relationship'?" he asked carefully. That was asking straight out. Winry had pretty much asked for him to be blunt, and there it was.

She didn't seem startled much. In fact, she looked like she had expected it. There was just a little surprise on her face, though. Ed was assuming it was because he'd actually brought it up without any provocation. She recovered, though, quickly enough and took a deep breath. "Well," she began, voice careful. "I, ah...I think it's difficult to explain, really."

Edward nodded, completely agreeing. He had troubles even explaining it to himself. He knew it was mostly his fault, blowing hot and cold air at her at different times. She must have been so confused about it at first, but it seemed she'd adjusted to it somewhat, since she had actually admitted loving him. But Ed couldn't help but wonder if she had really loved him, or just thought she had. Love was a difficult subject.

"If you want my honest opinion about it," Winry said after a few moments.

"Please," Edward said quickly while she took a breath, readying herself to speak.

"I don't know if it is really a good idea, if we're together because of our current situation. You're technically my bodyguard, and we shouldn't be in a relationship to begin with. You can't help who you love, though." She shrugged. "When everything is over, it might work, but it would take a lot of effort, from both of us."

So that was what she thought. Edward chewed over that. So she wasn't completely smitten and totally convinced that they were meant to be together. Not that he'd ever suspected it. She didn't seem like the over-possessive, believe-things-like-that type of person. No, Winry knew that there were rarely happily-ever-afters, and for that Edward was glad. He didn't think that he would be able to stand it if she was that type of person. He nodded a little.

"What about you?" Winry asked after a few moments.

Edward thought, staying silent. He turned around so he could watch the snow falling. What about him? What did he think? Winry must have been prepared for an answer, since she'd been able to reply so quickly. Edward, though, hadn't thought about it, really. He cleared his throat after a moment. "I don't know, really. I've been telling myself the same thing, that we really shouldn't be in a relationship because I'm working for you. If anything, we should just have a friendship, on a strict, need-to-know basis," he said, speaking his thoughts from earlier. "I don't know," he said again.

They were silent for a few minutes. Edward felt strange. They'd finally put things out on the table between them, and Ed really _didn't_ know what to do with it. He didn't know if he should be happy that Winry shared his opinion that they shouldn't be together, at least not at that time. He didn't know if he should be sad about it, either. It was confusing. Edward slowly began to realize that a part of him, the part that had realized he was in love with Winry, was a little sad about it. That part of him had wanted her to say something different, to say that she did want to be with him. Maybe then he would have been able to tell her what he felt, on the inside. He sighed a little. The snow that had been directly in front of his face flew out of the way.

"Why do you ask?" Winry's voice was slightly indifferent, like maybe she was feeling the same way. Edward had a flash of thought that things were going to be slightly difficult between them.

Edward looked around for a few moments. "Hughes said something about it earlier, that he thinks I'm procrastinating on your case to prolong our 'relationship'. Where he got that, I have no clue." As soon as those words left his mouth, Edward wished he could take back those words, realizing that they may be a little hurtful. Too late, though.

Winry nodded. "He said something about it to me, too," she said softly.

A small laugh escaped Edward. "I think he's trying to set us up together, or something," he joked, still chuckling a little.

Winry laughed, too. "He seems like the type of guy to do that," she murmured.

With a small sigh, Edward looked down at his watch. It was around eleven. Al wasn't back yet. Ed had a bit of an uneasy feeling about his brother being gone for so long, since he'd said it wouldn't take more than about twenty minutes at the house. If Ed put everything together, Al should have been on his way home at that moment, but he would have called to say so. He'd called upon reaching the house. Ed sighed. If Al didn't show up soon, Edward was going to call his brother to check on him.

"Edward?" Winry seemed suddenly hesitant. Just moment before, she'd laughed. Before that had been slight indifference, and even before that, she'd been smiling at him.

But Edward turned to look at her. He felt that he needed to look at her for this. When his eyes met hers, he could really see the hesitance and how unsure she was about what she wanted to ask. Ed surprised himself by reaching to cover her hand with his. Her skin was cold. He saw her expression mirror his in the slightest when he touched her hand.

"Do you really think that we won't work? In a relationship, I mean," she murmured, looking away from their hands, in a totally opposite direction from Edward.

He paused, surprised still, more so than seconds before. While he hadn't paid perfect attention to each word she'd spoken earlier, he suddenly remembered what she's said, that they couldn't help who they loved. Maybe she'd sounded indifferent before because she really _did_ want them to be in a relationship.

Edward thought hard. After a few moments, he sighed, shaking his head. "I...don't know, Winry," he mumbled. "I really don't know." He removed his hand from Winry's with the intent to put his hand back in his pocket. Before he could, though, he felt Winry suddenly leaning against him, face pressed into his chest and arms going around his waist. Edward automatically put his arms around her, resting them on her back.

"Now matters, right? Right now? We're together right now," he heard her say against his chest. Moments after, he felt her shoulders shaking as she began to weep.

He was a little puzzled at what to do, whether to try to comfort her or not. After a moment, though, he found himself nodding. "Yeah," he murmured, "It matters."

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**Just a quick question for you all. How many actually look up the lyrics for or listen to the songs I title my chapters? I'm just curious, and brought it up with my mother a while back. Anyway, lemme know!**


	30. Fall to Pieces

**Disclaimer: Don't own FMA, or the song "Fall to Pieces," by Avril Lavigne.**

Author's Note at the end of the chapter.**

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Chapter 30: Fall to Pieces

Alphonse Elric took a deep breath as he walked down into the basement of his and his brother's home. Even though they had lived at Winry's for quite a while before, it hadn't been as comfortable as this place. It was considerably smaller than Winry's house, but it hadn't been over-furnished, or empty. She was smart in how to furnish such a house without having either of those two feelings. It was nice, Al had to admit.

But he _still_ preferred his house, his home. One reason why happened to be because of his shop in the basement, which was probably in a terrible need of cleaning and dusting. That was partly why Al had come down from Winry's, another reason being that he'd forgotten to grab a few things. Those items were in a bag by the front door, ready for him to grab on his way out. With that first intention taken care of, Al had decided to take care of his work area.

When he caught sight of his desk, he couldn't help but sigh. The room was more than a mess; it was atrocious. Halfway finished projects were lying about, gathering dust and cluttering up space. Tools were strewn everywhere and in between, a few on the floor or left out in odd places.

Had he really made this much of a mess, and then left it to go somewhere else? Al sighed. He'd left the other night in a rush to get to the hospital for Edward, and hadn't worked in here since. That's what had been the problem.

Al checked his watch. He had to leave in ten minutes to make it back to Winry's house by the time he'd promised Ed. But, he couldn't just leave this place like this. It would irk his conscience. He stood, mentally debating for a few moments whether or not he should stay to clean up.

After a few more moments of staring the mess of his workshop/basement in the face, Alphonse decided to clean up. It wouldn't take him too long to just do a few things, right? He'd just dust off the surfaces, put away his tools (if he didn't trip on them first), and put projects in places he'd remember when he wanted to work on them later in life.

But within thirty minutes, he'd only checked off up to putting away his tools. Al looked around at the pieces of metal that still looked like scraps lying about. He really needed to go, but he really didn't want to leave this a mess. He'd have bad dreams and have to come back the next day to do it.

With the interest of his sleep in mind, Alphonse began to put things away again. It was ten or fifteen minutes later when he pushed the last piece of metal under the cabinet. He was pulling his arm away when the corner caught the soft part of forearm. Al hissed in a breath, looking down at the scratch. Blood immediately pooled over his skin and began to slowly trickle over his arm. This wasn't good.

With a groan, he shut and locked the cabinet, then began to walk away towards the stairs. He clasped his hand around his arm just above his elbow joint in an attempt to keep the blood from flowing too quickly. As he traveled up the stairs, blood dripped onto the wood beneath his feet. This would be fun to explain to his brother. "Gee, Ed, I was just cleaning when I decided you'd had enough attention after being beaten up, and sliced open my arm. What a concept?"

Alphonse growled a little as he stood before the kitchen sink, running water over his cut. It hurt, but he managed to rub out any possible pieces of metal or whatever could have been on his project. What hurt even worse was the alcohol he poured over it a minute later. It stung and burned, but he knew it was necessary.

A heavy sigh made the curtains over the kitchen window move. How pleased was he with his current situation? Not very. He covered his arm with a fresh kitchen towel and started to turn to go to the bathroom, looking for bandages. He stopped moving, though, a second after turning. His gray-green eyes fell upon a figure before him, so familiar, yet so distant. He stared at her, unable to speak for quite a few moments. Finally words came to him, though. A smile slipped onto his mouth, happiness replacing the look of shock that had been on his face.

"Mother," he whispered.

The womanly figure before him nodded, a small smile crossing her lips. It didn't quite reach her eyes, however, as though it was forced. "That's right, Alphonse. Mother is here," she replied, reaching out her arms to him.

Alphonse walked willingly into his mother's embrace, his smile still intact. Forgotten was his bleeding arm, his promise to Edward to be home at that moment, and the fact that his mother had died years ago.

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It was hardly ten minutes after that conversation with Winry on the balcony that Edward found himself speeding down the driveway as fast as he safely could in the snow. Beside him, Winry looked confused, but determined to be where she was currently. Her hands were pale as she gripped the armrest, the poor material being tortured under her fingers. Ed figured it was in defense of his driving and frantic U-turns to make it off her property.

"What happened?" Winry asked when they drove through the front gates.

Minutes before, Edward had received a call from Alphonse, interrupting his moment with Winry. Relief at finally receiving said phone call quickly gave to alarm, and then into panic at the garbled noises and muffled protests. Strangely, Ed thought he'd heard water sloshing on the phone before a loud noise, like the phone had fallen to the ground.

As Ed recounted this to Winry in a calm voice, he realized he was switching to his work mode, where he handled even the most bizarre things in a cool, detached manner. He shook himself a little as though to pull himself from that mindset. It was okay to panic. It was okay to be afraid. It was okay to feel.

A moment later, when Ed stopped at a red light, he felt Winry touch his hand. He looked over at her briefly when she said, "It's okay, Edward. Things _will_ be okay." It was like she was confirming his thoughts, the things she'd taught him, over the course of their friendship, their strange relationship.

Slowly, Ed took a breath, nodding his head a bit. "Yeah," he mumbled. "Yeah, it will be." Maybe things were bad at that moment, but if it was as bad as it could be, it would only improve. And who knew? Maybe Ed had just heard things wrong, or it had been a bad cell phone connection. Maybe things were just fine with Al, and Ed was overreacting. He wouldn't know, however, until he confirmed. The only thing he could and would do was try to remain calm, but not detached, and try not to panic while he was driving. He was fairly sure Winry didn't want to experience one of his car accidents, not in the snow.

As Edward drove closer to his house, he kept telling himself that things would be fine. He was trying to keep himself calm, reassure himself that, if something bad had happened, Al was a big, tough guy. The younger Elric could very easily take care of himself. Right?

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With a little more difficulty than what was normal, Edward managed to open the front door of his house. He had to shove it open, only to find a full duffle bag of he-didn't-know-what trying to obstruct the way. A curse escaped him and he was about to curse out loud at his brother for leaving things in the middle of the way, forgetting his earlier panic. When he looked up from the bag his panic returned, tenfold. He hardly felt Winry knock into him from behind, barely heard her fussing at him for only a few moments. But he _did_ hear her gasp in his ear when she caught the same sight filling his entire field of vision.

There, in the walkway between the living room and the kitchen, stood Alphonse. He wasn't alone, though. Standing before him was a slender, womanly figure. She seemed normal. But why was she there, and why did she have her arms around Alphonse?

"...A-Alphonse?" Edward stammered, taking a few hesitant steps forward. His voice seemed to startle the woman, as her arms tightened around Al. There was a sickening, wet sound, and a few muffled noises Edward couldn't make out to be anything intelligent.

He felt Winry place her hand on his shoulder, her fingers gripping his coat tightly. "Edward..." she whispered, "what...who is that?"

Edward looked at the woman a little closer. How was he supposed to recognize her from behind? If he hadn't been so scared at that moment, he would have fussed at Winry for thinking he could do that. But, he had to admit, there was something so strangely familiar about the woman, even if he could only see that she wore a business-like suit and had long brown hair.

Just like his mother's hair.

"No," he breathed. Louder, he shouted, "Alphonse!"

Within the moment he'd shouted his brother's name, the woman holding Al turned. Edward gasped at what he saw. Al's body was halfway emerged in the woman, the upper part of his torso completely disappeared within her. But what shocked him the most was her face. It really was his mother's. He gasped, felt his breath catch in his throat, unable to move from surprise.

This wasn't possible. This was not his mother. His mother was dead. She had died three years ago. Edward had watched her die, had cried at her funeral. How was it she was standing before him now, arms wrapped around his brother? How was it that Al was slowly disappearing into her?

"Edward," he heard his mother's voice say softly.

He shook his head in disbelief. This wasn't possible. "No," he said again, shaking his head for more emphasis. "No, this isn't my mother. Alphonse!" he shouted. He tried to do something, tried to move his legs, but only felt his muscles contract even more, causing pain to shoot up from his prosthetic docking port. Ed felt Winry grab his arm, shaking him a little.

"Ed, help Al!" she was shouting.

Very suddenly, Edward saw his brother cast aside from the figure. As he fell to the floor, his hair was soaked, dripping, as was his shirt. The woman was looking at Winry with a vehement expression set deeply in her face, like it was the norm to see there. Edward couldn't understand this. If his mother was dead…how was it someone with her face was standing before him? How was it that she was made of water, able to almost ingest a person as she had been with Al? And just how was it, if this person seemed to look like his mother, she would do something like that? If this was his mother, why would she try to harm her own son?

"Edward!" Winry's voice yanked Ed from his thoughts. He felt her hands shove into his arm, making him fall to one side. He tried to grab onto something, anything, to keep him from falling over. His head whipped around just in time to see the woman who resembled his mother rushing toward where he'd just been standing. He was only able to see her for a moment before dizzying pain registered in his mind as his head connected with the back of the couch. Moments later, dark and stars clouded his vision.

It took Ed a bit, but he managed to climb to his feet unsteadily. He reached up to his head to touch the sore spot on his head. He winced when his fingers encountered the sore spot, wet with blood. A groan escaped him, but even that sound made the pain in his head increase considerably. His face contorted in pain; at least until he heard Winry's frantic voice as she called out his name again.

Ed whipped his head up straight, paying dearly with a bout of dizziness for a few moments before his eyes settled on Winry. She was across the room now, looking quite afraid. From the edge of the cloudiness in Ed's vision, he saw that person who looked like his mother advancing towards Winry. For another moment, Ed was frozen in place. He knew he had to move, had to save Winry and his brother, but his legs were rooted to the floor in his living room. Another scream from Winry put the life back into Ed, though, and he leapt forward. Before he knew what was happening, Edward was shielding Winry from the woman before them. The angry, disdainful expression was still on her face as she stared past Edward at Winry.

As the woman raised her arm, it turned into water. Edward braced himself for something, anything. From behind, Winry's hands went around his arms near his shoulders, holding tightly to him. Time seemed to slow. Ed became aware of everything around him. He could hear the water making up the woman's body moving, gurgling as it changed from one thing to another. Winry's breathing was harsh, coming in gasps, near his ear. Her heart was beating furiously against his back. The woman before them raised her arm even more, the water extending to almost the ceiling.

Was this the end? Ed had heard many things about those last moments given to you before your death. Most of them were philosophies; others were from people who had experienced near-death situations. Some people said that your entire life flashed before your eyes, reminding you of the hideous and heinous things you'd done, making you appreciate the good you'd done or felt. Some said it was like a high, a beautiful, glorious high before death in which you became part of everything, aware of the very earth breathing beneath your feet. Another group had said there was nothing. You were so caught up in the moment of dying that you didn't have time to realize anything, felt no revelation, had no answer for the world.

In that moment, though, Ed felt it would be his last. He was going to die, right then and there from a blow to the head. What did he feel? No high, for sure; he felt nothing of the earth beneath him. No knowledge of the future, of what could have been if he'd made different choices entered his brain. No. Nothing of what he'd heard. Instead, he was acutely aware of every single muscle in his body, aching with the strain he put on them. His lungs burned from not taking any breath. His head ached from the concussion he probably had. He could feel Winry's grip tighten on her, could almost taste her fear. Or was that his own fear he tasted?

One final gasp of breath, one last feeling of oxygen filling his lungs and Edward was almost ready to die. He felt regret though, for one thing he had never done, for something he'd never said. It nagged at him in a most annoying way that seemed quite unfitting for him about to die. He ignored it, though. There was no way he could say it now. It would make no difference, only his final, parting words that probably wouldn't be heard anyway.

Edward waited for that final blow to come down upon him, to make his ears ring one last time like they did whenever he shot a gun without sound-deadening earmuffs. He waited for the final sensation of pain. It didn't come. He waited and waited for what seemed like an eternity or maybe even just one second. Instead of with pain, his ears rang with the silence in the room until one scream split it all.

"_Stop_!" It was Winry's voice, from behind him. Ed felt her hands grip tighter to him, felt her hot tears burning his neck. She was shaking; her entire body was shaking behind him. He heard her sob and the sound wrenched his heart.

"Stop," she said again, voice weaker. If it had been any other time, Edward would have fussed for her thinking that the single word would have any difference on this person trying to kill them. It didn't.

He was wrong, though. That single syllable seemed to put their enemy into a trance. When Edward looked at the woman, her hand had changed back into a hand. Her face was ashen, stuck in an expression of shock and devastation. Was she…showing remorse for what she'd almost done?

Before Edward could comprehend any of it, the woman seemed to literally disappear. One moment, she was standing before them and the very next, she was gone. Edward couldn't even fathom how she had done it. There was a very wet spot on the floor, though, where she'd been standing. When he looked down at it to analyze the spot, it disappeared as well, taking almost all trace of the woman away.

Edward wanted to collapse. His entire body hurt: his lungs, his head, his legs; everything. Part of him, the part that hated pain, wished that he _had_ died moments before. The tight grip on his arms, though, reminded him of that regret he'd felt when he'd thought he was going to die. Maybe it was a good thing he was still alive. There was something that he honestly wanted to say to someone before they were parted forever.

"Edward…" he heard Winry breathe from behind him. "What…what was that?" Her grip loosened on his arms, but she didn't let go. Instead, her arms went around his waist as though for some form of comfort.

Ed felt slightly uneasy as she held onto him, not sure he was stable enough to give her the security she felt she needed at that moment, not with what he'd just seen. He was still reeling from the sight of his mother's face on that body, what she'd done to Alphonse.

That struck his memory.

Within a second, Edward had carefully pulled out of Winry's hold and rushed over to his brother. Alphonse was lying on the floor, soaked from his mid-chest up. There were still droplets of water on his face, slipping down his cheeks. Edward felt panic sweep over him like cold fingers touching his skin, chilling him to the bone. He shivered as he reached out to his brother. His skin was pale and felt like ice, frozen beneath Ed's fingers. In surprise, Edward drew his hand away.

"No," he breathed. The familiar feeling of loss loomed above him, coming back to wrench him from the inside out. He hadn't felt this way since the day his mother died. His entire body began to tremble and a feeling of helplessness tugged at him. It felt like he was going to be alone, finally, without any family, no one who knew every detail of his past on which to rely. That feeling scared him to no end.

Winry's hand slipped onto his shoulder. He could feel her fear, as well, with how she held onto him. "Is he…is he all right?" she asked, voice small and weak.

Almost reluctantly, Edward reached his hand out to his brother once more very slowly to check his pulse. Gently, Edward pressed his fingers against Al's neck. Ed almost panicked. For a brief moment, he thought he'd felt nothing. When he pressed his fingers even more into his brother's neck, it was in desperation for some sign of life in Al. Ed nearly gave up, nearly began to accept that his brother was dead when he felt a faint, barely-there rhythm beneath his fingers, a very weak pulse.

A sigh of relief escaped Ed. He leaned his head down to his brother's chest, not sure if he should be happy yet, or if he should try to help him more. Against his forehead, Edward could feel his brother's heart beating slowly. After a few moments, he sat up again and began to pat Al's cheek.

"Hey Al," he said, voice almost frantic. "Al, come on...wake up." Ed felt weak now, felt small again, like the whole world was moving so quickly around him while he was still standing still. He'd felt this way only a handful of other times in his life and he wasn't fond of it. The feeling had usually come only when he'd been about to lose something. The only other time he'd felt it when he hadn't lost something, he'd gained something wonderful, some knowledge that he'd never forget.

"Al!" Edward's voice was louder now, bordering madness. "Alphonse, wake up!" Tears filled Edward's eyes, fearful tears that he was unable to hold back. They spilled over his face, one after another, as though it was a race to escape. "Al…don't…don't leave me. Don't leave me alone."

Slowly, Edward lay his head down on his brother's chest again, letting his tears come freely now. His fingers gripped his brother's shirt, unwilling to let him go just yet, not so soon. They still needed each other…Ed still needed his brother.

Ed didn't know how much time had passed when he felt Winry's hand lifting him to a sitting position. She held him sitting up. "He's going to be fine, Edward. Let's get him into the car and we'll go back to my house."

Not sure of what to do, Ed looked at Winry, then at his brother. Al hadn't moved, so what gave Winry the idea he was going to be fine? Had he missed something? Upon feeling her grip on his shoulder tighten a little more, Ed nodded. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out. So carefully, he stood, lifting his brother with him. He pulled one of Al's arms around his shoulders while Winry took the other. When Ed stood up, he swayed at first, the dizzy feeling reminding him of his head injury. He shrugged it off, trying not to alert Winry of it.

"Edward?" he heard her say softly.

He shook his head. "Come on," he mumbled, giving her no choice but to walk with him when he started towards the door.

Like she'd said earlier, things were going to be okay. Ed finally resigned himself to that knowledge, trying to make himself believe it. Things were going to be okay.

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It was early the next morning when Winry's eyes opened. For the second time in the past week or so, she woke cold. For a moment, she had a fear, stronger than the last time. This time, she was momentarily afraid that these past few months with Ed and Al, falling in love, were just a dream. When she opened her eyes, she was going to see her pillow and blankets, and Primus was going to announce Ed's arrival. Downstairs in the front room, where she'd dreamt her best Christmas in years, would be Edward, all prickly and anti-social.

Last night hadn't happened. Alphonse Elric only knew her from her CDs, which he loved to listen to while he was working. He hadn't had the near death experience from last night in which someone with the same face as his mother had tried to kill him. There was no almost-healed bullet wound on his shoulder, beginning to scar at last.

Edward Elric hadn't been to the hospital for numerous reasons over their time together. He didn't have the stitches in his side and arm from the fight the other night. That fight hadn't even happened. He was still clinging fruitlessly to the secrets he held from almost everyone. His personality was still just as annoying and hard to accept.

That would be all right, though. Winry would know what to do, how to handle the two, and the dark secrets Edward's past held. She would know how to keep them safe, provided things went the same way and not some alternate route. She'd know some details about her case that had taken Edward a while to figure out. She could hint to him different things for him, to help him along.

Best of all, though, she would still love him.

When Winry opened her eyes, she was both relieved and strangely disappointed when she didn't see her bedroom. She was in her house though. She was lying on a pallet in the front room. It was the day after Christmas, after that disturbing incident from last night. Carefully, Winry sat up. Where was Edward? She looked around her. Al was still on the couch, wrapped up in the blanket she'd put around him. He didn't look like he'd moved an awful much over the night. Winry should probably check his temperature to see if his fever had gone down at all. She was about to stand up to do that when she her eyes fell on Ed.

He was lying a little bit away from her, almost under the coffee table. In fact, if she was to startle him awake, he'd probably end up smacking his head on the table. That was no good; _very_ carefully, so as not to wake the sleeping man, Winry moved the coffee table a little further away from Edward. It was her best bet, in contrast to trying to move Ed. She didn't need him with a double concussion and another knot on his forehead.

When that was finished, the young woman walked on her knees over to Alphonse. She rubbed her cold hands on her legs to try to warm them up a little. With how cold they were, the chill would probably wake Al when she pressed her hand to his still slightly damp forehead.

He was still feverish, but it definitely wasn't as high as the previous night. Her worry reduced a bit, though she knew the fever could spike still. Hopefully it would continue to go down.

When Winry was about to move away, she saw Al's eyes open a bit. Winry stopped moving to look at him. He barely croaked out her name pitifully. A sympathetic smile touched Winry's face.

"Go back to sleep, Al," she told him. "You still have a fever."

There seemed to be no argument in the younger man, since his eyes slid shut almost before she finished speaking. A very quiet chuckle escaped Winry. She stood up then walked over to the doorway. Before she left, she turned, leaned against the doorjamb with her arms folded over her chest. She shook her head.

"My two sleeping men, safe but not sound," she murmured, a soft, slightly cynical smile on her face. She shook her head one more time before stepping towards the kitchen.

When she entered the room, she shivered a little. The fire had gone out sometime over the night and the heat hadn't kicked on yet. It was only about six-thirty, and the heat was supposed to turn on around seven. Well, if yesterday had been any indication, the kitchen could definitely become the warmest room in the house. So she turned the oven on, deciding to make _something_ in it and not just waste the gas used to heat it. Then she moved to make coffee. Both would generate heat, and coffee was wonderful in the morning.

Once the coffee was set up, Winry looked around her. The room seemed empty after everything that had been in it yesterday, all the people. In fact, that had to have been the most people the house had seen in quite a while on a social event. Before Edward had come around, Winry had been much too paranoid to have friends over. She figured she was safe with the person who was always around, Primus. That had been such a falsehood; Winry wondered why her perception of reality wasn't off its hinges yet. After the lies, the hoops jumped for Primus to become her live-in butler…Winry wondered if it had been devised that way specifically for the reason of being in her house.

Well, they had done that. They'd infiltrated the place that had been her haven, the place she should have felt safest. Why hadn't they killed her, though? Whoever was after her had had her in their grips. Primus could have killed her in her sleep and she would have been none the wiser. There had been many manners of ways that he could have done away with her while he'd been here. Edward, too, when he and Al had lived here. If her enemies had felt like Ed was in their way, one or two words could have ended their lives. It made Winry wonder why they were all still alive.

Well, it seemed like that old saying remained true: the closer you are to danger, the farther you are from harm.

Another shiver escaped Winry as she walked back into the kitchen, now wearing her house sweater. For some reason, she expected to see something in her kitchen upon entering. She expected to see that thing from the previous night, just standing there, waiting for her. Winry had been the one to make it leave. How? She still wasn't sure. She was just happy, though, it had gone without anymore harm to her two men.

That thought reminded her of Edward's head. She hadn't checked on him all night after he'd gone to sleep. It had been a few hours after midnight when that had happened, and Winry had promptly fallen asleep after him. It was still early for her to be awake, but her body was too jittery feeling. Hopefully, though, Edward was fine. Once she started breakfast, maybe the smell would wake him. If not, she would.

Breakfast. Muffins sounded nice. She would probably fry up some eggs, as well. So she set about that. Unfortunately, she had no blueberries to add, so settled for chocolate chips. Unless someone was allergic to it, chocolate chip muffins was definitely the way to go as an alternative to blueberry. What else? Winry was trying to think of what else she could make with her still slightly limited supplies. Since they hadn't been at the house in a while, her groceries were low. There was no juice or milk in the fridge – not that the milk mattered. Ed didn't drink milk. He'd probably rejoice over no milk.

Winry smiled a little as she went about making breakfast. The kitchen was beginning to warm, which was a good thing. She could already hear Ed grousing about it being cold. Following his grumbles, she could hear herself telling him, "Gee, it _is_ winter! I can't imagine why it's cold." Then he'd respond to her with an incoherent mumble and ask about breakfast. A bit of a chuckle escaped her.

Almost immediately after, though, a screech left her lips when she felt Edward lean something on his face against her shoulder. She guessed it was his chin from the boniness poking into her.

"Eggs say something funny?" he asked, voice still thick with sleep.

Winry cleared her throat, trying to recover. "You scared me," she whispered. "No, they did not. I was thinking about…" she paused, "I was thinking about your bad attitude in the mornings before a cup of coffee or four."

Ed grumbled a little at her in his own defense, but seemed to condemn himself instead. "I don't have an attitude," he told her, shifting a little. Winry felt him move against her back and it made her eyes close slowly. She fought them open again, reminding herself that she was cooking.

"Yes, you do," she replied, voice soft, unwilling to argue with him so early in the morning. "That's why the coffee should be almost done." She tried to move away from him, but Winry was stuck between Edward and the stove. It may have seemed like a good thing to her another time in her life, but now it made her feel a little claustrophobic and uncomfortable. After that conversation with Ed last night, Winry wasn't sure about her relationship with Ed.

"Coffee," Edward said, drawing out the two syllables in a happy tone.

Winry reached back and grabbed his shirt. "Not yet. Come here," she said as she shoved the eggs to the back burner. They were done anyway.

When Ed was facing her, he gave her a vaguely annoyed look, like he wasn't happy about standing where he was when coffee was clearly calling his name and was only doing this to humor her. Winry frowned at Ed as she touched his cheek. He made a face at her since her hands were still cold but didn't move, not even when her fingers slipped up this head.

Winry didn't touch the bandage on his temple, settling on tracing his skin around it. "How does your head feel?" she asked softly. While she had been joking with him before, her voice carried a different tone now, concerned rather than comical.

Ed shrugged at her a little. "It's felt better," he told her, voice a little indifferent. Then he made another face at her, this one a little uncomfortable. His hand slipped up to hers, pulling it away from his face as he mumbled her name.

Winry frowned a little more, pulling her hand from his. As she turned around, she said, "I was just wondering, Edward." Then she went back to being concerned with breakfast.

She hated how things were between them now. One conversation had seemed to change everything, at least many things. It felt strange for Winry to express herself to him in a way that had been almost natural before. Ed seemed to want to push her away slowly, gently so she wouldn't be too hurt. It was too late, though; she was already hurt, the damage was already done. It had been done last night, upon finishing their conversation about their seriously messed up relationship. With each word she'd spoken, each word she'd heard Edward say, it had broken her heart more and more until she now felt like it would never be whole again.

But she wasn't going to let Edward know that. Slowly, she was going to put the pieces of her heart together, with or without any help from anyone. She didn't want to, she wanted to tell Edward how she felt, just what she thought. She wanted to tell Edward that she was still so in love with him, always would be it felt like, even though he was a prickly, pain in the behind ninety-five percent of the time. She just wanted to talk about them more.

As Edward placed a mug full of coffee beside the stove for her, Winry knew that things wouldn't be the same again.

* * *

**Author's Note: Weeelllll, Here I am again. I think this one churned out at least a little quicker than the last one. Anyhow. Um...thinking. Oh, I received the nicest review from a certain person who starts with a K, and they were unsigned, and I wanna say thank you for that. So thank you a bunch for that really nice review. And thank you everyone else. Now we'll stop there before I get my butt kicked by the site. Anyhow. I'm in Alaska right now, leaving Sat. morning so leave me some nice reviews for me to read when I get home, 'kay? And btw, I do highly recommend this song, even if you aren't a huge fan of Avril. I love this song, and it really makes sense for Winry. Oh while my mind is on it: sorry if the ending is like...half-arsed, because this chapter was written so strangely. I'll make an LJ post about it so be sure to check on that folks. Anyway, I have a flight to catch in the morning at an ungodly hour, and I must rest up for that. Peace and lurvbe.**


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